


Lost Soul

by The_Crystal_Rose



Category: Christian Lore, Greek and Roman Mythology, Hellenistic Religion & Lore
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Olympian Gods, Attempted Abortion, Christianity, Controversial, Dark, Drama, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Forced Abortion, Gods need to learn a lesson, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Little Fluff, Mind Manipulation, Modern Retelling, Mortals aren't perfect, Multi, Multiple Religion & Lore Sources, Mythology - Freeform, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Plot Twists, Psyche Needs a Break, Rape Recovery, Refugees, Religious Conflict, Romance, Sexual Slavery, Slow Burn, Smut, Story within a Story, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, Unrequited Love, Violence, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 73,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6471346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Crystal_Rose/pseuds/The_Crystal_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Psyche had been taught love, now it was time for her lesson in pain.</b>
</p><p>After striking a deal with the goddess Aphrodite, Psyche completed her three tasks to earn the right to speak to her God husband, Eros once more. But the chance was taken from her the moment Aphrodite caught her cheating and Psyche was forced to turn from the temple and away from her husband.</p><p>Left to wander the world alone for an eternity, Psyche vows to make the best of a bad situation. With the help from an unlikely source, she finds herself moving on in life as she leaves behind her royal past for the future of a common individual and soon her pain just becomes another familiar friend.</p><p>It isn't until her world is completely upsided by the arrival of her husband, Eros, who claims he had been searching for her for the last several thousand years and the painful memories slowly resurface. Will Eros find out the ugly truth of Psyche's punishment? And will she be able to reveal over two thousand years worth of secrets?</p><p> <i>A modern telling of what happens after Psyche completes the trials set by Aphrodite and veers completely away from the original ending of the myth. Features other myths and legends as well!</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

# 

# Prologue

* * *

 

She stood still, graceful as a statue, her elegance a shining star that was too bright to look upon. Psyche couldn’t take it in. All she knew was she had succeeded. Every task, every journey, everything she had sought to do for a moment to see him, she had fulfilled. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she wondered when he would appear.

But the look in the goddess’s eyes made her falter.

It was pure hatred.

She could see it so clearly in their depths and it was directed right at her. She could understand…she had betrayed her son, but she was given a promise, a goddess’s word that if she were to succeed, she would be able to speak to him, at the very least.

That was all she wanted.

A chance to explain, if nothing else.

But the moment Aphrodite opened her beautifully shaped mouth, Psyche’s world came crashing down around her.

"You failed,” she spoke, her tone so cold it made Psyche wince and coward backwards.

“I don’t understand!” Psyche began in a trembling voice. “I did as you asked; I brought you the beauty you requested! I fulfilled each task—“

“Silence, you ungrateful sow!” Aphrodite shouted back. “Do not imply I am so blind I cannot see what lies in front of me! The box is intact, yes, but you still failed!”

Psyche was lost. Her whole body was trembling and she could feel her only chance at redemption, at seeing her love once more slipping quickly away.

“Please, Goddess, I implore you—“

“I said enough!” The words were spoken so harshly, it was like a hand had come down upon a table just to silence a room. Psyche couldn’t lift her gaze from the floor and she listened carefully to the bare footsteps of the goddess as she came closer.

“You’re tasks were for you alone and you failed each one!” Aphrodite explained slowly, like she was scolding a child. “I know you received help. Do not take me for a fool.” Her bare feet slowly appeared in Psyche’s vision as she stared down at the ground, her closeness uncomfortable and suffocating. “Who _helped_ you?”

Psyche could feel tears sting her eyes. She did not want to admit a thing, but she couldn’t deny it. The tasks she was given were impossible, design solely for her death, and the fact she had overcome each one, survived, and even brought back the items that were requested of her showed she had not done it alone.

She simply couldn’t.

She nearly died in the second task.

But she refused to give in. The deal had been laid out plainly; complete each task, bring back what was asked, survive…and she could see _Eros_ again! The goddess did not say a thing about receiving help.

Swallowing her fear down, Psyche raised her head bravely to meet the cold hard eyes of the stunning goddess before her. It could’ve been her fear or just plain adrenaline, but either way, she spoke with an authority she had long lost the moment she betrayed her husband and instantly felt a determination spark in her soul she could no longer ignore.

“Forgive me, Goddess,” Psyche began, her voice ringing loud and clear in the temple. “But I completed each task you gave me. You said nothing of help, you gave me your terms and I obeyed each one. I want to see _him!_ I earned it—Ah!” Psyche was cut off by the sting of a palm, her head turning to the right as her cheek burned from the contact.

“How dare you! You earned nothing! Nothing!”

Aphrodite spun on her heels and approached the dais. “My son, my _only_ son took you into his home, his bed! Made you a woman! And you pay him back by placing a dagger to his throat and burning him with the God’s Flame?” Her fist clenched as she turned to face the young princess who now looked nothing more than an old crone with her ripped, dirty dress, tangled black hair, and filthy pale skin.

“Tell me, child,” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “How exactly did you earn anything?”

Psyche stood there, holding her flaming cheek, completely speechless.

“Do you believe you deserve the right to see him?” Aphrodite asked sweetly.

 _No_ , Psyche thought, _I don’t deserve to be in his presence ever_. But her mouth didn’t form the words. All she knew was that she deeply loved him and just wanted to explain herself. But she knew it was futile.

Aphrodite smiled. “You know,” she began as she took a seat on the edge of her throne, “Eros has awoken from his healing slumber. He is still here.”

Psyche’s eyes widened and her heart tightened so painfully she thought it would stop beating.

“The moment he woke up, he spoke of you.” Her heart was beating so fast and she all but forgot the bruise that was now forming on her cheek.

“I will do anything for my children.” Aphrodite glanced off to the side, her face taking on a solemn look. “Anything they ask of me, I would do it. I’ve burned cities, cursed mortals… all for the love I have for them.” Their eyes met once more and Psyche could see sorrow in their depths. “A mother’s love is the purest of love, the strongest. It is a true burden.”

Silence stretched for an uncomfortable few moments before Aphrodite shook off whatever melancholy that had grasped her. Her fingers curled around the stone arms of her throne and her once sad face took on a more neutral façade.

“Even if you had succeeded, Eros had made it very clear he does not want any more to do with you.”

The words were like stabs to her heart, each one more fatal than the last.

Aphrodite stood once more, her figure straight and proud as she looked down on Psyche from her dais. “He wishes to renounce his love and annul this poisonous marriage. However, I have my own punishment to give you.”

This time, Psyche didn’t back away as Aphrodite approached her. She remained still; her chin tilted up to face her consequences. Inside, she was screaming and her eyes betrayed her feelings as tears leaked from the corners, trailing down her dirty cheeks and dripping onto the cold floor.

“When a God marries a mortal, that mortal is then blessed with eternal life,” the goddess explained.

Psyche’s wet brow furrowed at this.

Aphrodite smirked, pleased. “Yes, little one. You will live on, knowing exactly what you have done. You will live with it every day for the rest of your unfortunate life. However…” A slender hand lifted to Psyches midriff and gently pressed. “I don’t think you deserve to let this pregnancy continue.”

Psyches eyes widened, but before she could react it was too late. A bright light emitted from between Aphrodite’s fingers and seeped into Psyches belly, warmth spreading like wildfire. Her round stomach began to flatten and she cried out at the feeling.

She could feel one last kick of her baby before her stomach stilled and it was like a punch to the chest. The ever constant presence of something with her no longer existed. Her womb felt hallow…it was a fitting match for the open hole in her chest.

It was over in a matter of seconds and Aphrodite stepped away once she was finished. Psyche collapsed, her hands coming up to cradle her now flat stomach, sobs breaking her chest.

That baby was her only solace, her connection to the one thing she had lost. And now, it was gone.

What was she to do now?

“I believe we’re done here,” Aphrodite spoke as she walked back to her throne.

She turned one final time to see Psyche had lifted her head and was gazing at her with a look of pity and detestation blazing like the sun in her shimmering red eyes.

“You are no love goddess,” her voice croaked. “If you were, you’d understand that what I feel for Eros is true and it can be forgiven. And by punishing me—by taking the one thing that was a result of our love away from me…you’ve punished him.”

Fury exploded in the goddess’s eyes, but it was the last thing she saw. Something caught her from the side, something hard and solid. She never saw what it was before her head met the ground and her world faded.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche interprets a recurring dream she has and can't determine if it's just a dream or something more...

# Chapter One

* * *

 

_Present Day —_

It was the smell of cooked meat that woke Psyche from her slumber. She stretched, groaned, and buried herself deeper into the comforter.

She had that same dream again last night, the one that pulled at her heart every time she woke up to discover it wasn’t a reality. She’d been having it more and more lately and couldn’t help but feel like it was a sort of call, a summons that never quite reached her properly.

Every time she had the dream, it was always distorted, but she could see him more clear each time she had it.

A long corridor dressed in the purest of marble and trimmed in the finest of gold would always appear with her standing at one end. At the opposite end she would see a blurred outline of a figure she knew all-too-well. Even through the distorted murkiness of the dream, she could recognize Eros anywhere. He had his hand held out to her as he stood there, but at first, he was too far away for her to accept his outstretched palm.

She never heard him speak and he never made any movements even though Psyche attempted to cross the long corridor to him. As much as she tried, she always found herself in the same spot she appeared as if she never moved.

It wasn’t until she began having the dream multiple times did she come to realize Eros was moving. Each time, he drew a little closer, his hand still outstretched to her and his outline a little less blurry.

Last night, he was closer than ever, appearing almost a measly ten feet from her. And this time, she could almost see him perfectly. He looked just the same as the last time she saw him, minus his wings. His beautiful golden brown hair was just as unruly, sticking up in every direction and curling in all the right places, and his body just as muscular. What thrilled her most was she could very nearly make out his face; his deep gray-blue eyes almost pleading with her, an expression of intense longing aimed directly at her.

She wanted nothing more than to walk directly into his arms and feel him again.

Psyche sighed and rolled onto her back, the blaring of the sun shining through the window welcoming her to the new day. It had been so long since she last saw him, the painful reminder like a stab to the heart. She couldn’t help but to wonder…

Where was he now?

Who was he with?

Did he fall in love again?

Psyche nearly gasped at the amount of pain she was in not only physically, but emotionally at the thought and she had to force it aside. She couldn’t allow herself to dwell in what ifs. The last time she did, it nearly cost her her life.

Taking a moment to recover, Psyche pulled herself out of bed and ran a hand through her tangled black hair. She tried not to think much of Eros as she gathered clothes from her closet, instead focusing on the delicious smell wafting into her room. It wasn’t much of a distraction, frankly nothing ever was when she concerned herself with him, but she had to at least try.

Closing the door to the bathroom, Psyche undressed what little she wore to bed, her gray camisole falling to the floor and her underwear followed shortly after. She turned the shower on and allowed it to come to temperature while she brushed her teeth. All-the-while, she gazed at herself in the mirror as she scrubbed.

Where she was once lean and petite, she had grown and filled out. Her arms were more muscular, her stomach toned, and her breasts perkier. After all these years, she could safely say she was not the same person she once was. The sweet, fragile princess she was bred as no longer existed. Aphrodite made sure of that.

With that bitter thought, Psyche finished cleaning her teeth and jumped into the shower.

 

* * *

 

 

The smell of wondrous cooking only made Psyche’s stomach growl louder as she ran a brush through her newly dried hair. Ruffling the now short strands with her fingers, she made her way out to the kitchen.

The sound of music playing made Psyche smile a little as she rounded the corner and down the few steps that led toward the kitchen. There, standing behind the island with his back to her was her long time roommate and friend, singing along with the lyrics as he flipped the last pancake.

“—And you’ll say that we’ve got nothin’ in common…No common ground to start from,” he bellowed out as he turned to place several plates filled with bacon, pancakes, and eggs on the counter of the island. Upon noticing her, he glanced up and smiled sheepishly.

Psyche shook her head at him. “You didn’t have to do this, Zephyr…”

Zephyr, the God of the West Wind, shrugged and wiped his hands on a towel. “I imagine you would’ve been asleep longer. I wanted to be nice. Bring you breakfast in bed.” He placed a stack of pancakes, a spoonful of eggs, and two slices of bacon on a plate for her.

She took it gratefully and said, “You’re always nice. And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, you don’t have to act like a servant. I don’t want to treat you as such, either!”

Zephyr ignored that as he plated his own food, much to her annoyance. It was just like him to disregard things concerning his status to her and she decided to save the argument as she took a seat at the island.

Zephyr rounded the counter and sat beside her before digging in once she took her first bite. Between her bites, she looked him over out of the corner of her eye. She could remember clearly the day he discovered she was alive, the day he found her and took her away from her old life.

Psyche had been shocked, to say the least, when he appeared, and also embarrassed when he saw the state she was in. But he hid his emotions well as he carried her away.

She hated thinking about the past—what had happened—and Zephyr was good not to mention it. No, he had quickly become her saving grace; cleaning her, clothing her, and helping her to get her back on her feet.

He had become her constant companion, shielding her from the rage that followed her everywhere as he vowed to do. She couldn’t even imagine what it put him through by helping her, but he took every risk necessary to ensure her safety.

 

 

***************************************************************

_Zephyr stood on the other side of the dully lit room, the small fire he was able to start helping to keep her warm. His Godly glow radiated around him beautifully and Psyche couldn’t do much but stare at him speechlessly._

_She couldn’t tell if he was shocked at the amount of blood she had been covered in…in all honestly she wasn’t even sure how she felt at the moment either. All that went through her mind was the need to end the misery, the pain, and the torment. She was tired of being used for other’s purposes, but she couldn’t remember how she got a hold of the dagger or what happened afterwards._

_All she could really remember was trembling so hard she was sure she’d collapse…and collapse she did. Her knees hit the cruel dirt floor hard, the blood beneath splattering onto her skin. It wasn’t long when she felt a presence behind her and very numbly, she turned to find him._

_She didn’t recognize him, though they had only ever met once, long ago. She knew by his glow and garments that he was a God, but nothing else came to mind._

_She felt empty._

_"Psyche,” he spoke, his voice reminding her of a whisper in the wind, smooth, mystical, and beautiful. He stepped forward, seemingly unfazed of the body in front of her. “I have been searching for you for nearly three hundred years.” His eyes fell onto the body for a quick second and he took another step forward. “I can see I am too late, though…”_

_Psyche furrowed her brow in confusion, but said nothing. She wasn’t even sure if she had a voice any longer._

_“I am Zephyr, the—“_

_“_ _The God of the West Wind,” she suddenly spoke, her voice hoarse. It could’ve been the recent incident or the last few hundred years of torment, but she said flatly, “Are you here to whisk me back to Aphrodite or take me to the Underworld?”_

_At a time, she would’ve apologized profusely for her rudeness at not addressing him properly, but she couldn’t find it in her to care any longer._

_Zephyr’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No, beloved of Eros.” She cringed at his name. “I am here to help you,” he said simply._

_She stared at him in disbelief, lost for words and completely immobile, but Zephyr was anything but. He took the last few steps towards her and leaned down, his very warm hands sneaking underneath her arms to help lift her to her feet._

_Immediately she felt woozy and grasped onto him as she stumbled. Zephyr caught her easily, uncaring of the blood she smeared on his chlamys. Leaning further down, he placed his other arm underneath her legs and lifted her easily, whisking her out the window without so much as a sound nor glance at the corpse they left behind._

_She must’ve blacked out, because she couldn’t remember how they came upon the small cabin or even how she got cleaned. She was currently huddled beneath a blanket she didn’t remember ever having, naked beneath, but very much clean. Her hair was wet and it stuck to her shoulders and back annoyingly. But she was clean._

_Clutching the warm blanket to her, she glanced up at the God. “Thank you,” she whispered._

_He didn’t respond to her gratefulness. His back was to her as he stared out the very small window, his eyes turned upwards._

_The silence stretched between them uncomfortably and Psyche wasn’t sure what to say or what to do._

_But soon, the decision was made for her._

_“What happened to you was unjust; you had all ready paid the price that was owed.” His voice sounded more serious than before.”Your story has been told countless times among the pantheon; many versions of it were shared.” He turned back to her to see her blue eyes wide and, finally, alert. “Aphrodite made sure to tell all of your betrayal.” Psyche cast her eyes aside in shame. “However, she failed to explain that she had fabricated your tasks; rigged them for your failure.”_

_At that, her eyes shot back to him in surprise. How could he know Aphrodite had lied?_

_“H-how…” Psyche stuttered and then swallowed heavily. “H-how could you p-possibly know that?” She had begun trembling again._

_Zephyr cocked a brow and leveled a look at her. “Who did you believe it was helping you through your tasks? Surely not Eros, he was placed in a healing coma by his own mother and didn’t awake for some time.” At Psyche’s shocked expression, he could only chuckle. “If you are that shocked about my help, you will be even more shocked to discover who else helped you.”_

_She was sure her mouth was wide open. “But…I don’t understand! Why would you help me?”_

_“I am a loyal servant of Eros, but not only that, I am a close friend of his,” he began to explain. “I also believe in justice and second chances. Aphrodite, however, does not.” His eyes grew hard. “She is a jealous Goddess and not only were you blessed with beauty that surpassed her own, you snared the heart of her beloved son. Her favorite child who’s loyalty changed to his beautiful, mortal wife; a woman he married without her blessing or knowledge. You made him question things he never thought to question before and he was no longer as obedient to his mother as he once was. You were doomed from the very beginning.”_

_She knew very well how Aphrodite could be. Her empty womb and hallowed heart were proof of that._

_One thing, however, poked at her mind. “So, Eros sent you?” She tried hard not to sound hopefully, but Zephyr could easily see a small glimmer light her eyes._

_He sighed heavily and pushed away from the window, his gaze softening. “No, he did not.” The small glimmer immediately snuffed out and Psyche turned her head away. Zephyr approached her and crouched to her level. “He doesn’t know I am here. He cannot know.”_

_Her eyes were glistening when she looked back at him. “I don’t understand…”_

_“Dear Psyche,” he began, his fingers lifting to gently wipe the tears that escaped. “I would want nothing more than to reunite you with your husband. But you must understand, if he were to know I am here helping you, then his mother would know as well…and Zeus.”_

_She shook her head and tried to pull away from him, but he was quick, his fingers grasping her chin, forcing her to stay in place. “No one knows I am here, Psyche! And it must stay that way!”_

_Psyche felt completely and utterly defeated. Zephyr may be here to help her, but not in the way she truly wanted._

_He wiped another tear away and she was thrown by his compassion. “After Aphrodite sent you away, Zeus called every God to council. That hasn’t been done in thousands of years, Psyche!” Releasing her chin, she turned her face away to wipe at the mess. “There has been a ban placed on every God. We can no longer set foot on the mortal world. He believes we’ve interfered too much.”_

_He allowed that to sink in for a second and when she finally caught up she stared at him with a deep concern._

_“But…that means…if he catches you…”_

_Zephyr nodded._

_It made absolutely no sense to her. “Why? Why would you put yourself at such a risk? For me?”_

_Zephyr gave her a small reassuring smile. “Eros has many loyal servants and friends. But can any of them truly say they are willing to extend their own service to his mortal wife who holds no claim of oath and simply just made a very mortal mistake?” More tears escaped her eyes as a sob finally broke through. Again, he brushed at them so gently, she leaned into his touch. “I have spent quite some time among the mortal realm and have learned much. I am fond of your kind, and unlike my fellow peers, I am more understanding. Can you honestly admit to me that what you did was simply a mistake?”_

_There was no hesitation in her answer. “Yes!” she cried out. “Gods, yes!”_

_“And, can you honestly tell me, do you truly love your husband, Eros?”_

_She nodded fiercely, the tears streaming down her face so fast, her vision was blurred. “I do! So much!”_

_At that, Zephyr simply smiled, placed a hand over his heart, and bowed his head to her. “Then allow me to help you, Lady, to shield you from the rage that follows you, and be your faithful servant for the rest of your days unto the end of time.” Psyche held a hand over her mouth as she sobbed and without a moment’s hesitation, Zephyr gathered her to his chest and held her through the night._

 

 

 

 

**************************************************************

She picked at her eggs as the memory plagued her thoughts. It had been over three hundred years before she experienced a shred of hope. She never imagined it coming to her in the form of the God next to her, but she made sure to show her gratefulness every day thereafter.

Realization settled in not longer after they met. As much as she hoped and prayed, she knew deep down…She would never see Eros again. That realization settled like a heavy stone.

It took years—so many years—before Psyche was able to really begin moving on. She wasn’t even sure how she could, but she knew without a doubt she had Zephyr to thank for it.

“Are you still planning to go to the studio today?” Zephyr asked as he sipped his orange juice.

Psyche nodded. “I’d like to record my next piece while it’s still fresh.” She took a bite of her pancakes and glanced at him. He was finishing his bacon, but when he felt her eyes on him, he turned to look at her, the bacon hanging limp from his lips.

She chortled.

“What?” he mumbled around the bacon before tossing his head back and opening his mouth, the bacon disappearing quickly.

She shook her head at him. “Did you want to come with me, you pig?”

He held up a finger as he chewed and Psyche chuckled some more at the idea of him suddenly being respectful and waiting to talk till he was done chewing when he had no qualms talking around his food moments ago.

Once he was finished he turned in his seat and said, “Okay, one, if anyone is a pig in this place, it’s you, Miss ‘I’ll-eat-all-the-Doritos-and-cheese-sauce-in-one-sitting’!” He pointedly stared at her with a smirk and she rolled her eyes, but denied nothing. “Two, you never invite me to the studio unless you’ve finished the entire piece. You’ve barely started this one, so why the sudden invitation?”

Psyche shrugged. “I wanted to be nice,” she threw back at him with a smile.

Zephyr narrowed his gaze at her, suspicious. “And that’s the only reason?”

She bit her lip. No, it wasn’t the only reason, but the reason she wanted him around was to finally tell him about the dream. She had yet to say anything and part of her didn’t want too. She wanted to keep the dream to herself, like her own personal secret. If she were to tell him, she knew he’d become worried.

Instead, she said, “I’d like to have your opinion, if that’s all right with you?”

Zephyr dabbed at his mouth, his eyes trained on her in surprise. “My opinion? Why? Are you doubting this one?”

Psyche sighed as she played with her eggs. She wished that was all she had to worry about. Doubt about her composition. But her recurring dreams were starting to bother her and she couldn’t understand why.

Instead, she simply nodded. “Please?” she asked.

Zephyr slowed his chewing, giving her innocently pleading expression a good study. It made her nervous how deeply intense his staring could be and for a moment she felt transparent. It was hard to lie to him, but Psyche had become quite good at it over the years.

Faking, for her, had become an art she didn’t enjoy.

“Okay,” he smiled. “I’d love to give my input. But I have to be honest; I’m not as good with the violin as you are.”

It was like her shoulders became both lighter and heavier at the same time, an odd feeling that was relieving and stressful all at once. She smiled gratefully at Zephyr while wondering how long she could put up with the act.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Psyche held the last note, her body swaying gently with the music as the melancholy sound drifted off into the air. This particular piece affected her more than any other composition she’d ever written and glancing up, she noticed the sorrowful look Zephyr had adopted.

She wasn’t the only one it affected so deeply.

Lowering the bow, she exhaled a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in, her chest unwinding and her shoulders relaxing. It felt good to finally finish it and she couldn’t help but smile a little as she unstrapped the violin from around her torso to carefully lower it down on the amp behind her.

“Well?” She asked, turning to face the God who still sat with a look of intense sorrow.

“Psyche…” Zephyr began, only to trail off, speechlessly. He shook his head and sat forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “What possessed you to write that?”

Psyche blushed at the thought of the dream. It was exactly her feelings whenever she had it. The sight of her beautiful husband standing mere feet from her made her feel helpless. The dream, for her, resembled torture. It was cruel, unrelenting, and scarring.

But, she couldn’t very well tell Zephyr that.

She swallowed and went with reflection. “Did you not like it?”

Zephyr scoffed and stood. “Of course not! It was beautiful! But…” He ran a hand through his hair, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “It was filled with so much pain. It felt like a punishment.”

Psyche winced at his words. One thing she couldn’t deny was how intelligent and perceptive this God was. But, then again, he had spent the most time among the mortal realm than any other God she knew.

“Is that how you feel?” He asked as he approached her from across the studio.

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she murmured as she stared at the floor. “Sometimes, I guess.”

One second, she was staring at her feet, the next her face was buried into a familiar chest, the arms wrapped around her so tight she almost couldn’t breathe.

No words were spoken between them as he held her, his chin resting atop her head as he crushed her to him. He, at first, questioned why she would ask him to come, but now he understood.

She was not one to express how she felt with words. Ever since their faithful meeting, Zephyr learned quickly that Psyche was a woman of action. She expressed herself through a series of events, big or small. How could she begin to tell him the pain she had once been tormented with was no different today?

The dreams certainly didn’t help her to move on either.

Psyche could feel the words forming in the back of her throat. She was going to tell him. Yet, as she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out. No sound, no breath.

Instead, she snuggled her head into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, enjoying his warm and comforting presence with a guilty conscience.

"Is this why you’ve been acting so strange, lately?” Zephyr asked quietly into her hair.

Psyche pulled away, tucking a piece of loose hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know I was acting strange.” She turned and gathered her instrument, unplugging it and tucking it away in it’s case.

“You know you have. You’ve been distant, quiet. And I can always tell when you’re not sleeping well.” His words were innocent, but his tone implied he knew something. Maybe she had been transparent after all.

Her posture stiffened and she glanced back at him questioningly.

Zephyr cocked a brow at her all knowingly. “Come on, Psyche. I know you. You’ve had bags under your eyes, you stay up later than normal, and sometimes I hear you crying in your sleep in the middle of the night. What’s going on?”

Psyche fiddled with the handle of the case, her indecision to tell the truth waging a war within her. Finally, she settled with this. “Are there times you ever think you’re being sent a message or a sign, but it’s too unclear to make out?”

Zephyr furrowed his brow. “Are you trying to read tea leaves again?”

She chuckled and shook her head, the nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach. The last time she told Zephyr she was having dreams, he immediately made her pack a bag, the serious and frighten look on his face enough to spur her into action. It wasn’t long after that she decided he had overreacted, but it definitely made her rethink telling him her latest dreams.

“Never mind, I’m being silly.” She lifted the case of her violin and brushed past him, feeling his eyes follow after her curiously.

 

* * *

 

 

The walk home was quiet and Psyche could feel Zephyr thinking beside her loudly. She knew he was attempting to analyze her cryptic question and she expected him to at least voice some of it while they walked, but he never did.

Neither brought it up again until later that night.

Psyche was sitting on the couch the remote hanging carelessly in her hand as she casually switched the channel of the TV. The clock on the wall read a quarter past two in the morning, but that mattered little to her. Zephyr had long since retired, but Psyche couldn’t find it in herself to sleep, no matter how tired she was.

Instead, she sat up straight on the couch, finding the most uncomfortable position she could as she searched for the most obnoxious show on TV. She needed a distraction, something that would keep her awake and, hopefully, the dream at bay.

As she switched the channel for the millionth time, Psyche couldn’t help but wonder if she was reading too much into the dream. She couldn’t deny every fiber of her being ached to see Eros again; a part of her needing the closure that only an explanation could provide in this circumstance. All these years of separation made her wonder if he hated her for what she did. She was also curious if Aphrodite played it up, too.

But, as much as she tried to tell herself the dream was just a dream, a larger part of her knew it was anything but.

Psyche frowned as she settled on a movie she didn’t particularly care for, her thoughts already plaguing her to the point where her distraction had become useless. Instead of dwelling, she adjusted her position on the couch, her eyes trained sleepily on the screen.

“Do you know what time it is?” a voice interrupted from behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder to see a bare-chested Zephyr standing in the entryway of the living room, his hair messy from sleep, but his eyes alert.

Psyche sighed. “I can’t sleep,” she admitted.

Coming around the couch, Zephyr stood next to the TV and crossed his arms. “Can’t or won’t?” When he was met with silence, his eyes hardened. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, Psyche! I know when something is on your mind and I can tell when you’re avoiding something. What’s going on?”

It felt like a scolding from a parent. Zephyrs voice took on an authoritative tone that he adapted well too and it always made Psyche fidget. She knew there was no way out of this without telling the truth.

Curling her legs under her, Psyche met the Gods hardened stare full on with determination. “Before I tell you, you must promise me we won’t leave!”

Zephyr narrowed his gaze on her and he shook his head. “You know I can never make that promise. I swore to protect you and if leaving is the answer, then we will definitely leave.”

Psyche glared at him. “You also swore to serve me but I have never treated you as a servant. Do me the same courtesy and don’t treat me like a fragile thing that always needs to be protected!”

“You are fragile, though!” He argued. “You are a mortal, Psyche!”

“No, Zephyr!” She stood from the couch, defensively. “I’m immortal! If I was mortal, I would’ve been dead for two thousand years, like I should be!”

“Don’t say that,” he spoke flatly.

“It’s true, though!” She held her arms out, gesturing wildly. “I should be dead, Zephyr! With the rest of my family, with my kingdom, with my baby!” Tears sprung to her eyes and her voice shook. “I shouldn’t be here, but I am! Because I made a terrible mistake!”

The fight went out of Zephyr at the sight of her tears, her words piercing through him like razor-tipped arrows. He sighed and took a step toward her. “Psyche…you can get through this. You’ve been doing so well, don’t—“

Psyche shook her head at him and cut him off immediately. “I’m having dreams, again!” She shouted at him, the words just tumbling from her mouth as fast as the tears were falling from her eyes. “I’ve been having them for a while and they just…” She wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s been making me think a lot, lately…”

“What are they about?” He demanded and she could tell he was already determining their next course of action, something she was hoping to avoid. She had grown fond of where they were at this time, had even made a few friends, and was beginning to build a life for herself.

She didn’t want a simple dream to take it away from her.

“I won’t leave, Zephyr. I won’t!” She began.

“Psyche, what are they about?” He spoke slowly and with a sternness she hadn’t heard in a long time.

Psyche hesitated for what seemed like hours, until she was finally able to mutter the single name she hadn’t spoken in years. “Eros.”

She saw Zephyr nod. “What does he do?”

She wiped at her face again and sniffled. “He just…stands there. Holding his hand out,” she mimicked the stance to demonstrate. “It uh…” she sniffled again. “We’re always in a hallway and he was far away at first.”

Zephyr held up a hand and took one more step forward. “What do you mean ‘at first’?”

She hesitated again.

“Psyche!” He demanded and she winced.

“Every time I have the dream, he keeps drawing closer. I couldn’t see him at first, but…I can see him pretty clearly now.”

Zephyr was quiet for a moment and Psyche could see the wheels turning in his head. Finally, after several long minutes of silence, he exhaled and reached up to rub at his forehead. “Is that why you asked me that question earlier? Because you think it’s a message?”

She shrugged, suddenly feeling exhausted and on the brink of passing out. “I thought at first, maybe…But I don’t know now.” Her arms came up to hug her middle. “Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.” Huffing, Psyche sat back down on the couch as her hands brushed the last remaining tear streaks from her face. “I mean, it doesn’t really make any sense. Why, after all this time, would he send a message to me? If he still wanted me, he would’ve found me a long time ago.”

Zephyr said nothing to this, his face clear of any emotions. He approached the couch and sat carefully next to her, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder and back. “I think you need sleep. And you need to tell yourself it’s just a dream. Sometimes dreams don’t mean anything.” It sounded harsh, but it had to be said.

Psyche, however, didn’t buy it. “The last dream I told you about, you made my pack my things and we disappeared.”

Zephyr hugged her close, his chin finding its resting place atop her head. “Sleep, Psyche. We’ll still be here tomorrow.” His tone was gentle and full of promise.

“Truly?” She asked sluggishly. “You’re not making me pack my things tonight?”

Against his better judgment, he squeezed her arm and kissed her forehead. “Truly.”

Psyche nodded and rested her head fully on his shoulder. He took the cue and adjusted her against him, his arms snaking underneath her to lift her easily. Gently, Zephyr carried her down the hall to her room, her soft, even breathing telling him she had given in to sleep almost immediately.

He laid her out on her bed, pulling the covers over her as she snuggled into the comforts of the mattress. Zephyr turned to leave once he knew she was settled, the look of serene peace on her face comforting him and filling him with guilt all at once.

He knew, tomorrow, she would fight against his decision and he prepared himself mentally for the hell it would bring.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche awakes the next morning to a little surprise. How will she react?

# Chapter Two

* * *

 

_“Psyche…”_

Psyche’s eyes snapped open, her heart beating a rapid tattoo in her chest. Just as she feared, she had the dream again. Shakily, her hand lifted her from the bed to sit up, while her other hand racked through her messy hair. It all felt so real it was nearly unnerving.

He had been closer than ever—nearly touching her—and she could see him so clear it was like seeing him in reality. Psyche knew if she could at least lift her arms, she’d be able to touch him, but she never did—never could.

The dream even felt more intense than before. His very close presence invaded Psyche, forcing her to focus on him and only him. And his voice… That’s what was different.

He spoke!

For the first time since she began having the dream, he finally spoke and the first thing he said was her name. And oh! How he said it! Filled with such longing, dripping with desire, and containing an undertone of passion. His voice had always oozed sex, but she had somehow forgotten just how much it held.

Then again, it had been over two thousand years since she heard it.

The sound of her name falling from his lips caused a familiar ache she hadn’t felt in years explode in her lower abdomen. And he smelled even better than she remembered.

His scent filled her senses, the mixture of musk, air, and roses nearly driving her mad. There was even a hint of cinnamon that she had forgotten was always accustomed to him.

_Gods, what does this mean?_

She had never heard him speak before and he had never been so close to her. He had stood just inches from her, his once held out hand now hung by his side, but his expression was more alive than she had ever seen.

He gazed at her with want, desire, longing, and intensity. It was a look she more often felt than expressed. It was a look a lover gave when they had missed their other half after a long separation.

Psyche couldn’t decide if this was her subconscious playing out her most inner feelings or if the dream was truly a message. The latter felt far-fetched, but for some reason, she couldn’t shake the feeling that’s exactly what it was.

Glancing at the clock, she decided it was time to get up and dressed for the day. Last night had been utterly exhausting, but oddly relieving. The anticipation of Zephyr’s reaction had left her feeling tense and on edge, but he had promised they weren’t going to leave, and so far he hadn’t broken his word.

Her safety had always been a priority of his and she was grateful of that. But it had become rather annoying how serious he took his position as her servant and protector. Over the years, Zephyr had been known to be overprotective, making it very clear that he was with her for a purpose and that was to shield her from the rage that followed her everywhere.

Without him, she wouldn’t have made it to where she was now.

Psyche sighed as she emerged from her room, dressed and freshly showered. As she made her way down the long hallway of the penthouse apartment, she noticed two things. One, the usual smell of breakfast was missing and though she had greatly protested each and every morning about him cooking for her, she found it odd when she saw the kitchen vacant.

The next thing she noticed was the place was oddly quiet, devoid of life.

Normally when her and Zephyr were home together, something was always playing in the background. After living with the God for so long, she had come to know that he hated silence and had a loving affair with music.

The record player in the corner of the living room was abandoned, their stereo system was lifeless, and the piano at the opposite end of the room was untouched.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. It was unlike Zephyr to leave her alone—the indication of silence telling her he wasn’t in the apartment at all. For a moment, she had entertained the idea that he had hidden himself somewhere within the large penthouse—it did contain many rooms, but she knew the God well.

He always left breadcrumbs in his absence.

Psyche rounded the counter island and entered the kitchen to inspect the remnants of the fridge.

There were no leftovers, no new groceries…

The counters of the kitchen held no tiny note explaining his disappearance and she frowned.

In other words, Zephyr had been summoned and needed to take on the disguise that he was elsewhere in Olympus to prevent a trail leading back to Psyche. That was the only explanation for this.

Shrugging, Psyche continued on with her day, preparing her breakfast and packing up her violin. She folded the toast over the eggs and bacon, creating a sandwich, and taking a bite of it as she headed for the door.

She turned the handle, ready to leave, but grunted in confusion when the knob didn’t give.

What?

Psyche tried again, this time jiggling the knob and yanking with all her might, but the door remained closed and firmly locked. She stared at the wooden surface in shock, her mouth falling open somewhat as her sandwich fell to the floor, forgotten.

“Zephyr locked me in!” she gasped in disbelief before panic quickly set in. “No, no!” She dropped her violin case and used both hands to tug on the knob in a desperate attempt to open the door, but it refused to budge.

Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Not again!” she cried as she pulled and pulled. “He promised me!”

Her hands curled into fists and she slammed them against the door as she screamed, “Zephyr! Let me out!”

Her panic turned to anger and she kicked the door before cursing under her breath when the action backfired, pain radiating from her toes. She glared at the blockade despising before turning and marching to the balcony that was right off the living room. She threw open the doors, satisfied to find them unlocked and she shouted into the sky, “Zephyr, you son of a bitch! You promised me this would be different! Let me out!” She took a breath and steeled herself against the railing. “I am _not_ your prisoner!”

She waited for a motion, a gesture, a sign that he had heard her, but she received nothing and her shoulders sagged in defeat.

Walking back inside, Psyche slammed the doors to the balcony and fell onto the couch in despair. She shouldn’t have believed him last night, though the promised words were all she wanted to hear. She had made a life in this city, had finally begun to move on, and because of a stupid dream, it was all being ripped away from her…

Psyche’s jaw tightened and she sat up on the couch, turning to face the entryway. From this position, she would make sure Zephyr saw her and when he did, she would change his mind about leaving.

 

*    *    *

 

Three days came and went, and still there was no sign of Zephyr. Psyche fumed inwardly—each day that passed by making her more bitter. She spent the better part of the first night on the couch hoping to catch the God as he returned, but when morning of the next day arrived, Psyche gave up.

So, she went about her day, instead practicing her violin in the middle of the living room until her fingers grew sore. Once she was unable to continue playing, she turned to baking. When that didn’t distract her, she tried a bubble bath.

That still wasn’t enough and Psyche could feel the tendrils of anger and frustration eating away at her. When she emerged from her bedroom, she passed the door that led to Zephyr’s chambers and she eyed it thoughtfully.

Hesitantly, Psyche opened the door and peered inside to see his room dark and spotless. Zephyr was a neat-freak with a touch of OCD and it always bothered him when even the slightest detail was out of place.

Psyche grinned evilly.

It was only fair, she deduced as she stepped inside. If he felt like upending her life was the right thing to do, she felt the need to return the favor and immediately set out to do just that.

First, the neatly organized books. She admired his ability to order them by published date, author name, and genre. _It would be a shame for these to get messed up,_ she thought as she carefully fingered a delicate spin before sliding it so it fell off the shelf and onto the floor.

“Oops!” she said mockingly and continued the action with the rest of the bookshelf.

Then there was his alcove—his clothing organized by color and folded pristinely. She shook her head and _tsked_ at his organization. Her arms dug into the soft fabrics and lifted, letting each piece of clothing cascade to the carpet one by one. She took the clothes that were hanging and flung them over her shoulder, laughing as she did so.

She was already beginning to feel better.

Turning, she hopped onto his bed and bounced, the sheets pulling from the corners and the pillows flopping around lifelessly.

By the time she was finished with the room, all his shelves were empty, his clothing scattered, and his knick-knacks tossed to and fro.

She sighed as she stood in the middle of his room, observing her handiwork with a hint of pride. A part of her couldn’t wait to reveal the mess to him and she giggled at the prospect as she left the room, making sure to turn the light off and shut the door.

As she left the room, she heard movement from the living room and she tensed.

He was back!

Butterflies fluttered her in her stomach and she squared her shoulders as she prepared to confront him. Taking a deep breath, Psyche marched towards the living room and spoke, “You have some nerve, locking me in here!”

But as she rounded the corner, ready to face the impending argument, her angry tone trailed off at the sight that greeted her.

Horror filled her as she froze her eyes wide and unblinking, and her brain barely able to process the situation. Her heart slammed hard into her chest cavity and pain flooded her senses. Unbeknownst to her, tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, leaving wet trails down her cheeks.

This was it… This was why Zephyr left!

Betrayal at the thought made Psyche sick, but nothing compared to the feeling at staring into the face that haunted her pain-filled dreams. Standing just inside the entryway by the door was the sole reason for her misery, looking no different, and dressed just as she had once remembered.

Hair just as beautifully gold, eyes as deep as the ocean, and a figure that made her both envious and dripping with arousal.

She swallowed heavily, unable to look away from _him_.

“Eros…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. I have changed careers and my new job requires a lot of my attention, as well as my creativity, so I have found myself lacking in free time when it comes to my own work. However, that doesn't mean I will be giving up, I just decided to take a much needed breather from my job to produce a lonely chapter. I hope it was worth it.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche speaks with Eros for the first time in over two thousand years, but his confession leaves her unbelievably torn.

# Chapter Three

* * *

 

Psyche couldn’t breathe as she stared—unable to comprehend who it was that stood before her. Eros was exactly how she remembered; tall, broad shouldered, muscular chest, tan skin, and beautiful golden hair that reflected the sun, nearly the spitting image of his mother’s tresses, except it was short and unruly.

He looked every inch the God he was. His golden bow was strung across his shoulders beside his quiver, his wings tucked carefully into his back, perfect and pure white. They reminded her of angel wings and she recalled being envious of his ability to fly during their years apart and wished she was able to sprout her own so she could fly to him and explain everything.

She couldn’t help but stare speechless as he stood there drinking her in at the same time.

How was this even possible?

Zephyr had always made sure to cloak their presence, hiding them both from the prying eyes of the Gods. It was a unique ability of his and she briefly wondered with his absence…had the cloaking wore off?

 But that didn’t make any sense. He had left her many times before and never had she been discovered, not in over two thousand years.

Psyche’s eyes drifted over him before they fell on the small scar that was on his right shoulder, barely concealed by the strap of his quiver and she winced as the painful memory of their departure flashed through her mind like an electric shock.

_**************************************************************_

_The dagger dropped onto the marble floor, creating a loud clang that bounced off the tense walls. The atmosphere was suffocating and Psyche knew the moment he awoke that she had made an unforgivable mistake._

_His penetrating blue eyes flashed up at her, first with adoration, before disappearing when they noticed the candle she held in her hand. He sat up quickly and climbed to his feet, standing on the bed as his wings sprouted from his back. His shoulder singed and burned, the pain intense, but the agony that seared his soul at her betrayal was even greater._

_“Eros…” Psyche whispered to him in awe. “You’re… you’re the…”_

_“Psyche, what have you done?” he gasped at her, his eyes wide in disbelief._

_Her mouth fell open and her eyes shot to the candle in her hand and the dagger neglected on the floor. Her empty hand shook as tears filled the rims of her eyes._

_“I… I thought…” she stuttered._

_“Do you hate me so much?” he cried to her as he flew from the bed over to the window. “Do you despise our union so much to want me dead?”_

_She turned and faced him, the tears shedding. “I swear, I didn’t know!”_

_“You weren’t meant to!” Eros shouted at her, his Godly light igniting around him, nearly blinding her._

_She winced and shook; his tone angry and filled with resentment. He was so beautiful it was hard to look at, his otherworldly aura radiating with power. Why would he want to hide himself?_

_“Please… let me explain!” Psyche cried as she forced herself to meet his wide, unblinking gaze._

_He shook his head, his glassy blue eyes softening as he took a step back towards the window. “No. You promised me you wouldn’t look upon me. You swore you’re love was stronger than your curiosity! You knew what would happen if you broke your vow!”_

_Psyche gasped at the underlining threat and she dropped the candle, the flame snuffing out before it collided with the floor and she shot over to him, falling to her knees before him._

_“No, please, you have to let me explain! This was a misunderstanding, please!”_

_Eros stared down at her flatly before he turned his head away._

_“I loved you. Truly,” he whispered brokenly. “But…maybe Mother was right,” he continued as he stared down his hands. “Maybe there is a reason why Gods and mortals aren’t meant for one another.”_

_Psyche cried harder._

_“Don’t say that! Eros, please! I do love you!”_

_“How can I believe you?” He growled as a tear fell from the corner of his eye. “You never once spoke of your love until now, no matter how much I showed you, how often I told you! You gave me your word and you broke it!” Eros shook his head. “Mother was, indeed, right. Mortals are fickle creatures that will never understand the value of love, no matter how hard we try to bless them with it.”_

_He turned to the window, away from Psyche who sobbed at his words._

_“You are no different,” he said before he took off into the night sky, leaving her and their broken love behind._

_**************************************************************_

“Psyche,” she heard him breathe like a prayer, snapping her from the memory. He took a step towards her, his hands coming up, ready to embrace her, and in a panic, she stepped back, her own hands coming up to ward him off.

“H-how?” She gasped out, her chest moving as she breathed erratically. “How did you find me?”

Eros’ brow furrowed, his arms falling to his side as he gazed at her sorrowfully. “Psyche…” he began, his voice wafting over her like a gentle melody. “I’ve been searching for you for over two thousand years…”

She shook her head in disbelief. “What?”

Eros opened his mouth to continue explaining, but a presence behind her drew his attention and Psyche turned to see Zephyr standing close behind her. Shockingly, he was glaring at Eros threateningly.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded as he placed himself protectively in front of Psyche.

Eros eyed him guardedly, taking in his position as his eyes glanced back and forth between the God of the West Wind and Psyche.

“So, this is where you’ve disappeared to,” the God of Love deduced. “Many of us have wondered where you’ve gone.”

“And I’m assuming you’re going to tattle to Mother Dearest?” Zephyr accused.

Psyche glanced around him, feeling a little more leveled now that he was here with her, but at the mention of Aphrodite, her panic returned at full force. She gripped the back of Zephyr’s shirt tightly and he glanced over his shoulder at her reassuringly.

Their eyes met and Psyche could no longer hold onto the anger she had felt for him previously as the gravity of the situation settled within them both.

This was not good.

Turning back to Eros, Zephyr said over his shoulder, “Psyche, I need a moment with him. Will you wait in the library?”

“But…” she began to protest, but one look from Zephyr shut her up instantly.

This was no longer her friend standing before her, but her protector, the God himself. Her shoulders sagged and she gave a reluctant nod. As she turned to leave, she caught the longing look Eros shot her, and she met it with one of confusion as she made her way down the lonely hall towards the small library her penthouse had.

Psyche sighed as she fell in one of the chairs, her hands still shaking, and her mind still unable to process Eros’s arrival. How would things continue now? Did this mean Aphrodite knew where she was? Was she no longer protected from the rage? And most importantly, did Eros know?

Was he here because he had been sent by his mother to procure her? Did that mean he knew of all the awful things his mother made sure she endured? Did he even know about the trials, the punishment…their baby?

She wanted so desperately to be back in the living room just to be able to ask these questions. It was unfair of Zephyr to send her away when she had finally been reunited with her husband…or was he now her ex-husband?

She could only assume that was the case. Part of their arrangement was that if she had ever looked upon him, he would seek to annul their marriage. A part of her never wanted to believe it, but when Aphrodite confirmed his desire to renounce his love for her, she knew their marriage was over.

Now that he was back, she had no clue what to do or whether she was safe. But at this point, Psyche was unsure whether she wanted to remain safe. She had lived so long, endured so much tragedy and misery that the prospect of ending it all had been very appealing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried before, but Zephyr had always made sure to stand between her and death.

Just because she was immortal didn’t mean death was no longer an option. She was just sturdier, more durable—almost as if she had a warranty on her life.

A warranty that she wanted removed.

It was a half an hour before Zephyr found her in the back of the library and Psyche peered around him as subtly as possible to see if Eros had followed him.

He was alone.

Zephyr shook his head and said, “He’s waiting in the living room.”

Psyche nodded and picked at a loose thread on her sweater. “What does this mean?” she asked with an undertone of panic. “How did he find us?”

An expression of guilt flashed through the God’s eyes and he took a seat next to her. “I think he followed me, but he won’t say how he found us.”

“What?” She frowned. “Where could he have followed you from?”

“I had to go back to Olympus for a few things and make arrangements and I guess I was too distracted and forgot to cloak myself.”

Psyche froze and stared at him.

“Make arrangements?” she repeated.

Zephyr sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What would you have me do, Psyche? You were having dreams again and that could only mean one thing, so we had to come up with a plan and I needed to find another location for us!”

“But, you promised me this was going to be different!”

“I lied, alright!” he snapped. “It doesn’t seem to matter anyways because my fear became a reality!”

She grew quiet, thoughtful, as she tried to push back the urge to run to the living room and throw herself into Eros’s arms. Then fear overshadowed her desire and she asked, “Is he here to take me back to his mother?”

Zephyr glanced up at her in shock and she was startled to feel a trail of tears sliding down her cheeks. His arm came up to curl around her shoulders as he tugged her close to him.

“No,” he said. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Psyche shook her head. “Are you sure about that? Because you weren’t there the night he left me and you weren’t there when I finished the final task for Aphrodite.”

“Psyche,” he began reassuringly, “I know Eros. And as much as I’ve been away from Olympus, I’ve also been keeping tabs on him every now and then. He is nowhere near as loyal to his mother as he once was. And he wouldn’t do that to you.”

The immortal princess looked skeptical, but she knew Zephyr wouldn’t lie about something like this. “So, what did you say to him?”

He shrugged and rubbed her arm. “I just needed to make sure he came alone and that no one saw him leave.”

“And?”

“Eros has always been pretty sneaky. He assured me no one saw him.”

Psyche nodded and bit her lip. “So, then why is he here?”

Zephyr observed her for a moment before answering. “I have a hunch, but I think you need to talk to him first.”

“What?” she asked surprised. “Why?”

The God beside her shook his head and said, “I’m surprised this is your reaction. You’ve wanted this for years and you finally have the chance to explain everything and you’re scared?”

Psyche looked away from him as butterflies flapped around in her stomach. She felt on the verge of being nauseous and she couldn’t tell if it was nerves or excitement, but one thing she definitely knew…she was terrified to speak to Eros.

 

* * *

 

 Psyche stood in the dark hallway, the light from the living room casting a glow that seemed to mock her. Her heart was thundering in her chest and her hands wrung together as she built up what little courage she had to face the man that haunted her for over two thousand years. She had desperately wanted to explain, but now that she had the opportunity to do so, the desire seemed to melt away in fear—fear of his reaction, fear of her shameful choices she used to survive, fear of the unknown.

How would he react?

Did he even know the truth? If he was no longer loyal to his mother, could it be because he knew of the trickery, the lies, and the cruel punishment she endured in order to earn him back?

She sighed. There was no use standing here questioning the _what-ifs_ when the one who held all the answers waited for her in the other room.

It had been a long time since Psyche adopted the stance of a princess, but here she was, her back adjusting till it was as straight as a board, her head high and proud as if she were balancing a weight of books on top of it, and her hands clasped in front of her like a proper lady.

With very little courage, she waltzed into the living room and cast her eyes to the right to find Eros standing by the window, taking in the view of the city with curiosity.

With the banned placed on all the Gods, Psyche wondered when he had last visited the mortal world. Much had changed over the centuries—no longer where there vast kingdoms and beautiful landscapes. Instead, tall buildings replaced mountains, cement roads were adopted instead of dirt paths, and cars were used instead of carriages.

Everything Psyche had grown to love had been forgotten by mankind.

Quietly, she approached the God of Love, her eyes drifting from him to the view as she acted nonchalant.

“Different, isn’t it?” she murmured, unable to trust her voice enough to speak normal. She was already beginning to tremble.

Eros was silent and she felt his eyes turn to her appraisingly. She could practically taste the longing and desire that wafted off him and did her best to ignore it. She wouldn’t give in so easily like she had once before.

She was different now.

“I’m sure it’s nothing like Olympus…and certainly not as pretty…” her eyes shifted to find he was, in fact, gazing at her, but his expression was unreadable and she was nearly lost in those beautiful blue eyes of his. “But it is home.”

She was rambling, she knew, but the silence between them was already unbearable and she was barely in the room for a mere two minutes.

“It’s beautiful,” he finally said, but he was no longer looking at the cityscape and for some reason, Psyche wasn’t sure if he was referring to that or something else…

She swallowed and forced her attention back to the view outside the window. She had no idea what to say to him and as much as she tightened her hands into a fist, they would not stop trembling!

Suddenly, she felt his large, warm fingers caress the back of her balled fist and she gasped and stepped away from him in reflex.

“Psyche…” his voice was so gentle, just like she remembered, but concern was barely hidden by her reaction to his touch.

Her eyes peeked up at him to see he looked resigned—sad almost.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed out, her arms crossing to control her shakes. “It’s just been so long and I already don’t know what to say.” She sighed and looked away from him as she said, “I can barely handle the fact that you’re here. I don’t think I can handle you touching me.”

With that, she turned away from the window, unable to look his way as she sat on the sofa across the room. The distance provided her with a bit of comfort and she saw out of the corner of his eyes as he hesitated before sitting in the chair by the window, furthest from her.

“I understand,” his voice drifted to her.

“Why are you here?” Psyche asked abruptly, her tone sharp. The fact that he remained calm after seeing her for the first time in thousands of years irritated her. Couldn’t he see she was a mess? Why couldn’t he be the same?

Eros’s brow furrowed as if her question confused him. “I told you earlier. I’ve been looking for you.”

She shook her head, his answer unsatisfying. “That doesn’t make sense. How could you possibly know I was still alive? And why, after everything that happened, would you be willingly searching for me? The last time we spoke you made it very clear you wanted nothing more to do with me.”

He winced and leaned his elbows on his knees, his head bent forward shamefully. “We both said and did things we regret that night.”

 _And only one of us was punished for it,_ she thought bitterly. “I was there that night, I remember it perfectly. That doesn’t answer my questions.”

Eros looked momentarily shocked by her abrasiveness and Psyche felt a bit of pride that she was no longer meek and subservient.

He blinked and his shock was gone, replaced with contemplativeness. “Which would you like me to answer first?”

Psyche eyed him as her mind raced with everything she had wanted to say—two thousand years worth of words flooding her brain until it gave her a headache. She frowned deeply, unsure of where to start.

That wasn’t exactly true. She knew exactly where to start, but that question didn’t want to form on the tip of her tongue like the rest.

Why had he searched for her when she had betrayed him so?

She feared his answer.

“How did you find me?” Psyche asked and Eros looked mildly stunned.

Was he not prepared for that? That seemed unlikely.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischievousness that made her heart sputtered at the sight.

“How has your sleep been?” He countered with a smirk.

It was her turn to look stunned. What an odd question… She frowned and said, “What does that have to do with anything…” she trailed off slowly as she was quickly reminded of her recurring dreams and she stared wide eyed at him. “My dreams… They really were from you?”

Eros smiled; his eyes soft as he nodded. “It was the quickest way I could find you without leaving Olympus.”

“But how?”

“A friend owed me a favor,” he explained with a shrug. “But it took longer than I anticipated,” he eyed her observantly. “Your mind was either warded or you are just very strong of will. I almost found you before, but…”

“We disappeared,” she finished for him. Psyche swallowed heavily and sighed. “Whenever Zephyr found out I was having the dreams, he’d make me pack up and we’d leave and I wouldn’t see him for days afterwards.”

Eros looked irritated. “He was covering your tracks. He knew.”

“So it would seem,” she murmured to herself.

“But I finally found you.”

Psyche winced and her hands clasped together in her lap tightly.

“You’re not happy about that,” he stated matter-of-factly, but she could sense an undertone of hurt in his voice and she glanced up at him and shook her head.

“I’m afraid,” she admitted rigidly and his brow pinched together at her admission. “The last time I encountered a God other than Zephyr, it did not end well for me.”

His concern was replaced curiosity and anger but before he could ask the obvious, she interrupted him. “Now that you’ve found me, what do you plan to do?” He sat up straighter and she stated firmly, “If you intend to return me to Olympus, then you’ll be leaving empty-handed.”

When he stood, she stiffened in her seat and watched him warily as he approached her slowly like one would a frightened animal. Finally, he was right in front of her, but instead of reaching out for her and taking her in his arms to drag away like she anticipated, he simply held out his hand to her, the same way he did in her dreams and she blinked stupidly as she leaned away from him.

Eros had a look of longing and desire that resembled her dream exactly and he said, “I just want you, Psyche.” Her eyes shot to his in shock and he continued. “I will do what it takes to earn your trust again. I will court you, woo you, or just simply be your friend. I will not leave your side unless you force me away.” When he said that, he looked at her pleadingly and it was almost too much to bear to keep eye contact with him. _“Please_ , _don’t force me away.”_

Psyche stared. What could she say? Part of her demanded that she send him away, while the other part, the one that bore the loneliness and despair and pain—all the scars and nightmares—pleaded with her to keep him by her side.

She was torn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO excited to see that the remake of Beauty and the Beast is coming out in March of 2017! Did you guys know that movie is a re-interpretation of this very myth?! GAH! I can't wait!!!!
> 
> I'm also updating this story on my tumblr first before any other site, so follow me!
> 
> http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche is faced with a decision that puts her heart and her mind at war.

# Chapter Four

* * *

 

Zephyr soon joined them in the living room, and after discovering Eros’s intentions, he turned to Psyche with a crooked brow and said, “It’s your decision.”

She certainly wasn’t prepared for that and it definitely didn’t help her indecisiveness whether to make him leave or allow him to stay. Her lips thinned and she eyed the God of Love speculatively. Did she really have to decide in the moment?

Then again, what was one night under the same roof with him anyhow? She had survived months with him—though, at the time she didn’t know who he was, it still didn’t make a difference. He refused to show himself and she feared him to be a monster bent on devouring her at a moment’s notice.

She could handle one night and with Zephyr nearby, she felt a little more comfortable with the idea.

So, Psyche stood from the sofa and crossed her arms, ignoring the hand that was still held out towards her as she said, “You can stay for the night and I guess we’ll figure out where to go from there tomorrow morning.” She cast a quick look at Zephyr for reassurance and he smiled gently at her and nodded his head approvingly.

Eros took a step back and bowed his head, his lips forming into small smile at her decision. He must’ve anticipated she would decide that and the thought irritated her.

 _Damn him_ , she stewed inwardly. Did it make her a terrible person to want him to suffer just a little?

Perhaps, but she never claimed to be perfect—only mortal.

Psyche turned to Zephyr and said, “Will you show him where he’ll be staying tonight?”

He tilted his head and said, “Of course, Princess.” Then, he gestured for Eros to follow him and with one final, loving look from the God of Love; the two men disappeared down the hall.

Just before they were out of sight, she heard Zephyr speaking quietly to Eros. “I hope you’re prepared for a long battle, my friend.”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to hear Eros’s response, but whatever he said made Zephyr’s booming laugh echo back to her and her hands came up to rub her arms absentmindedly.

What had she gotten herself into?

 

*    *    *

 

That night, Psyche couldn’t sleep. Shortly after Zephyr escorted Eros away, she immediately bee-lined it for her room where she stayed for the rest of the day. It was enough to know the son of the woman she had been running from was in her penthouse, but facing him again after the extremely awkward conversation earlier was more than she could bear.

There were moments she heard shuffling beyond her door and although she was curious to see if it was Eros hovering nearby or Zephyr ready to barge in, she decided to feign sleep and not look. It was now drawing closer to two in the morning and after the day’s events, Psyche was quickly realizing how hungry she was becoming.

She had skipped dinner in her panicked haze and hopefully both men were asleep and wouldn’t bother her… Maybe she should just wait until morning?

Her stomach growled in protest and Psyche sighed as she pulled herself from bed. She crept to the door and carefully cracked it open to peer into the dark hallway. There was no sound, no sense of life and all the doors around her room were shut tight. She wasn’t even sure which room Zephyr had placed Eros in, but she wasn’t about to find out.

Quietly, Psyche made her way down the hallway towards her kitchen, her eyes shifting from left to right for any surprises that may jump out at her. Thankfully, everything was silent as she pulled open the fridge and sifted through it for anything quick to make.

Unfortunately, Zephyr did not leave her any leftovers from whatever he had made that evening, probably intending to punish her for abandoning him with Eros, but she couldn’t find it in her to feel guilty. And sadly, there was nothing quick to make except a bowl of cereal, but that would have to do.

She was not about to prepare herself a full meal and risk waking up her new guest. As childish as it felt, Psyche wanted to avoid Eros as much as possible until she came to a decision on what to do about him.

Pulling the milk carton from the fridge, she turned and rifled through her cabinets until she found a box of Lucky Charms and began to build her snack. Her back was facing the rest of the room, her kitchen large and open so that it bled out into the dining room and living room with an island counter that separated the three rooms from one another. She didn’t bother with the lights—she was familiar enough with the layout of her place to easily navigate in the dark—but as she turned with her bowl and spoon in hand, she gasped and jumped, jostling her food and allowing the milk to spill over the edges of the bowl.

She backed her body up to prevent the milk from splattering her gray tank top and black pajama bottoms, her heart beating rapidly at the sight of Eros sitting on the other side of the island, watching her with an amused smile.

“Sorry,” he said, his chin leaning on the back of his hand. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Psyche was breathing heavily and she could practically feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. As soon as her shock subsided, she cast him an annoyed look as she sat her bowl on the counter before heading to retrieve a towel. He didn’t look the least bit perturbed by her irritation; in fact, his eyes seemed to sparkle like he enjoyed the fact she was angry with him.

Grabbing the towel that was hanging off the handle of her oven, she walked back over to the spill and before she could hunker down to her knees, Eros was by her side with his hand reaching for the cloth. His fingers grazed her knuckles as he took it from her and she shivered from the contact.

“Allow me.”

The next thing she knew, he was kneeling down and mopping up the mess dutifully and she was frozen in place as she watched.

It was odd to watch a God of his stature perform such a menial task and as he stood, she cleared her throat and took the towel from him.

“Thank you.” It was stiff and her tone betrayed how uncomfortable she was, but Eros played ignorant as he returned to his seat.

She placed the towel back in its original place and turned to her abandoned cereal, wondering if she should head back to her room or face the music and eat beside him. He was still watching her like a hawk, like he feared if he blinked she would disappear, and part of her wanted to desperately.

She took up her bowl and before she could leave the kitchen, he asked, “Did you sleep all right?”

Psyche sighed inwardly, her shoulders sagging at the chance to escape and she resigned herself to the inevitable. She rounded the counter and sat two spaces away from him. “Fine,” she lied as she used the spoon to swish around her now partially mushy cereal. “You?”

“I couldn’t.”

With the spoon poised to her mouth, she stopped and glanced at him to find he was leaning back in the chair with his arms folded and his twinkling eyes gazing at her in amusement. She could tell he saw through her lie.

She _harrumphed_ and took a bite of her food. Swallowing she asked, “How come?”

She saw him shrug out of the corner of her eye. “Honestly? I was too excited that I found you to sleep. I was hoping we could talk again.”

Silence stretched between them as she continued to eat, but unfortunately she had lost her appetite at the prospect of speaking to him again.

“What is that you’re eating?”

The question caught her off guard and she eyed her bowl. “Oh um… It’s Lucky Charms cereal…”

Eros leaned forward and reached for her spoon. “May I?”

Unable to come up with a verbal answer, she just stared at him and he smiled as he took the spoon from her hand and dipped it into her bowl before lifting the bits of cereal and marshmallow into his mouth. She watched him chew thoughtfully and then he blinked as if the taste took him by surprise.

He handed the spoon back to her wordlessly, which she took numbly, and out of the blue, she asked, “Would you like a bowl?”

Eros froze, obviously not expecting the offer, but he smiled gratefully and nodded.

Suddenly feeling shy, Psyche climbed out of her seat and returned to the kitchen where she assembled a bowl for him before pouring herself a fresh one. As she did so, she noticed his wings had disappeared and he was wearing a pair of Zephyr’s flannel bottoms and a T-shirt. He filled out the clothing well—he was much more built than the God of the West Wind.

As she slid his bowl over to him, she tilted her head curiously. “Where are your wings?”

His breathy chuckled made her stomach flip flop. “They come to me when I have need of them.”

She sat beside him, observing his now smooth backside for any hint that he might have cut off his wings, but there was no bump within the fabric of his shirt to indicate anything except well-defined muscle and a strong back. Psyche blushed as she took notice, her mind flashing with memories of her hands gripping that very same back in the throes of ecstasy and she had to look away.

“So, you can will them away whenever you want?” she asked as she lifted a spoonful of fresh cereal to her mouth.

“Yes,” Eros affirmed as he ate beside her.

“I’ve always wanted wings,” she murmured as she dipped her cereal into the milk with the underside of her spoon.

“I know,” he claimed. “You told me once.”

Psyche bit her lip as she played with the contents of her bowl.

“I did, didn’t I?”

They ate in a comfortable silence and when he had finished, she took his bowl along with her own to the sink where she washed them. He watched her work and she could feel his eyes as they passed over her like a caress.

“You’re different,” she heard him state.

Her hands paused for a moment and she glanced up at him to see he was observing her curiously as if trying to figure out all her secrets with one look.

She pursed her lips and continued working. “How so?”

He shook his head and tilted it to the side. “I don’t know. You’re just different. More durable…”

Psyche lifted a shoulder as she placed the last bowl in the drying rack.

“That’s what time does to people, I guess.”

“Was time the only thing that happened to you?”

She knew the question was asked in both curiosity and concern, but his tone implied otherwise. He spoke sharply, almost with an authority that she was used to hearing at one point in time, like he knew something and wanted her to tell him for confirmation.

Suddenly, the moment that was between them was shattered at the painful reminder of everything she had been through because of the man in front of her—all because she had fallen in love, made a mistake, and was punished for it.

Instead of answering him, she wiped her hands with a clean towel and said, “Goodnight, Eros,” before leaving the kitchen and heading for her room.

There was no way she was prepared to reveal her demons and he hadn’t earned the right to view them.

She knew by the silence she left behind that he was aware of the sore spot he touched, of the very thin line he crossed, and he was more than willing to wait. He was patient, after all.

She, however, was not.

 

*    *    *

 

Sleep didn’t come easily to Psyche, but when it did, she was grateful. When the next morning arrived, she made sure to hibernate for as long as possible before dragging herself from bed and preparing for the day. Surely Eros and Zephyr would be waiting for her in the living room and though she wasn’t ready to face either one of them, she knew what she wanted to do about her former lover.

Psyche took her time getting ready, taking longer than usual in the shower before wrapping a towel around her naked body and heading for her closet. She rifled through her clothes and pulled out a white peasant broomstick skirt and a black off the shoulder shirt, carefully laying both items on her bed before returning back to the bathroom where she began to dry and style her hair.

It had been a while since she last took care of her appearance and though she didn’t want to admit that she was putting so much effort into it for her new guest, deep down, she knew she was. There had been a point in time where she was considered the most beautiful woman to roam the Earth—so beautiful she rivaled Aphrodite, though of course that little notion was what got her into this mess in the first place. But it didn’t hurt to touch herself up; it wasn’t like anyone in this day and age would even bother comparing her to the Goddess of Love and Beauty.

She doubted that anyone even remembered the Greek Gods and the thought both comforted and saddened her.

With her hair finally dried and carefully placed in a bun with loose curls framing her face, she walked back into her room and dressed. After one final look in the mirror, she left her room and made her way down the hall, trying her best to look as if nothing was out of place. She didn’t want Eros to think his presence affected her anymore than it already did. He already had a huge advantage over her, she needed to gain some ground.

Walking into the main area of the penthouse, she saw Zephyr standing at the stove, but Eros was nowhere to be seen and she frowned as she slowly approached the island.

“Took you long enough,” Zephyr teased as he pulled something from the oven. It smelled heavenly, but Psyche’s stomach was in knots and the thought of food didn’t seem appealing.

“I was up late,” she explained, her eyes glancing around for the familiar figure of Eros.

She tried to appear nonchalant, but Zephyr smirked at her as he placed the casserole dish on the counter. “Looking for someone?”

Psyche blushed and shook her head, her eyes blinking innocently at him. “No, what made you ask that?”

He shrugged as he took off the oven mitts and tossed them aside. “You’re doe eyes searching for your long lost lover kind of gave it away.”

She frowned. “I don’t have doe eyes and I wasn’t searching.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender and he laughed lightly at her.

“Okay, then.”

He pulled out a knife and began to cut into the steaming casserole and she fidgeted on the other side of the island, waiting for him to offer an explanation. When he didn’t, she nearly groaned.

“Speaking of Eros,” she tried casually, hating the smirk that appeared and the amused _mmhmm_ he offered. “Where is he?”

Zephyr shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m assuming he’s either still asleep or maybe he’s poking around somewhere.”

“You’re assuming?” Psyche felt a spark of fear that he left and it must’ve been obvious because soon the food was abandoned and a hand was reaching across the island for hers. She instinctively took his hand and felt him squeeze her fingers.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I know you’re scared, but trust me, I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” he promised wholeheartedly.

Psyche bit her lip and nodded, offering him a shaky smile as she took a seat.

“I know,” she said. “I’m trying not to be pathetic, but I can’t help it. It feels like I had all this control and suddenly I don’t and I’m terrified.” She chuckled humorlessly. “I was just starting to move on in my life…”

“Were you really, though?”

She grimaced and shook her head at him, “Don’t do that. I don’t need you to be my conscious; I have a brutal one already.”

Zephyr shrugged and turned back to the dish, cutting into it. “I’m not trying to be your conscious, but I won’t let you live in a fantasy either. And even you have to admit, you were barely living.” He began to dish out what appeared to be a quiche and she took the proffered plate, disgruntled. “Some food for thought,” he smirked, his eyes casting to a point behind her and she glanced over her shoulder to see Eros emerge, freshly dressed in a pair of jeans and a buttoned down shirt—Zephyr’s clothing again.

It was strange to see him dressed like a civilian and Psyche had to force herself to look away, but Zephyr caught her stare with a subtle, knowing look.

 The stool next to her was pulled out as Eros took a seat beside her and she shifted in place as she returned her attention to the food before her.

“Good morning,” he greeted to the pair. Leaning over, whispered to her huskily, “You look beautiful,” and she could feel his warm breath brush over the exposed skin of her shoulder, making her shiver.

She flashed him a small, quick smile, her cheeks heating.

“Good morning!” Zephyr pushed another plate filled with quiche towards him before taking a plate for himself and sitting on the other side of Psyche, trapping her between the two Gods. She threw him a subtle glare and mouthed, “Traitor!” to which he beamed at.

They began to eat in silence, until Zephyr cleared his throat and said, “So, Psyche…”

She sighed, unable to finish, knowing what was about to be brought up.

“We need to talk about what we’re going to do,” he began.

She saw Eros lift his head from the food and the tension between the three of them was so thick she was sure something as dull as a spoon would cut right through it.

Psyche swallowed and stood from the stool, needing space from them both. She chewed on her nails and heard both stools shifted as the Gods behind her turned to watch her pace.

Finally, she turned to Eros, her jaw set determinedly and she said, “May I speak with you in private?”

Eros nodded and stood. “Of course.”

Biting her bottom lip, she threw Zephyr a _wait here_ look before disappearing down the hallway with her former lover trailing behind her.

Her stomach was in knots as she led Eros into the quiet room of her small library and she shut the door firmly behind them before turning to face him.

He didn’t smile at her, but his eyes were kind as he watched her fidget nervously before approaching one of the chairs on the other side of the room near a group of large bay windows.

The distance between them was necessary and though Psyche felt like she was about to suffocate, she attempted to keep her cool as she tried to gather her thoughts. Eros slowly made his way to the other chair adjacent from her and he sat so he was facing her, his elbows resting on his knees and his attention focused entirely on her.

This was it—the moment she had decided whether she was going to let him stay or to send him away and though she was confident in her decision up till now, she had become insecure on the way here.

Might as well get it over with.

Psyche opened her mouth, prepared to sever the ties between them, but the words that left her mouth were the exact opposite of what she had originally planned to say.

“You can stay,” she heard herself say.

 _What?!_ Her mind screamed at her.

Eros’s eyes lit up and he smiled brightly, but Psyche cut him off and held up a hand before he could rejoice and thank her.

“But I have conditions,” she explained and her mind protested again. What was going on with her? She was sure she should’ve sent him away! Despite what Zephyr had said, she was moving on and had begun to truly appreciate the life she had been given. Eros appearing threw a monkey-wrench into everything and after their moment in the kitchen last night, she knew it was only right for him to go.

So why wasn’t she?

Eros nodded. “Of course. It is your home I’ve intruded on, after all.”

 _Don’t be so accommodating,_ she thought, wishing he would at least be somewhat irritated so she’d have an easier time with this.

“Yes it is,” she said and she cleared her throat, ignoring how rude she sounded. “First, you need to understand that I am not the meek little princess you used to know. I’ve changed and I have a life now,” she began firmly, ignoring the small voice that told her to be kind. “So if you planned to come into my life and expect me to fall to your feet like before, then you can leave now, because that’s not how things work anymore.”

Eros smirked, his enjoyment confusing Psyche. He nodded in agreement and the random thought that she was being extremely forward with a God who was thousands of years older than her almost made her falter. At the same time, it was empowering to be able to stand up to at least one of them, even if it was her former husband; it was still satisfying no less.

Her eyes narrowed and she continued. “While you’re here, you have to obey the rules of this world and things have changed in the last few thousand years. And since you’re staying, you have to respect that you are a guest and what I say goes.”

His smile deepened and his amused look made her want to smack him. It appeared her rudeness had no effect on him at all and she frowned at that.

“Also, if you want to continue to stay here, you cannot tell _anyone_ you found me—including your mother. And you cannot ask me why.”

Eros’s smile was wiped off his face and his eyes tightened suspiciously—he looked ready to disregard her condition and question her anyway.

Ignoring him, she took a deep breath and prepared for the worst of her conditions.

“And finally, you need to understand that there is absolutely nothing between us and I am— _have_ —moved on.” Even as she said it, she knew she lied and the look on his face told her he could see right through her, but she kept her expression straight and met his eyes even though her heart was hammering away in her chest.

Eros was silent for a long time—there was no smile, no sign that he was agreeable. He just looked thoughtful, suspicious even, as he considered all her terms.

But then, he reached across the space that separated them and took her hand into his. Psyche had to hold back the flinch when she felt his hand. It was the first time she felt his touch beside the small caress of the tips of his fingers from yesterday.

She swallowed heavily, her mind yelling _don’t kiss it, don’t kiss it,_ but she watched, frozen as he lifted her hand to his lips and for the first time in over two thousand years, she felt him press those warm, soft lips to the back of her knuckles and the powerful shiver that traveled up her arm was almost crippling.

“I agree to your terms…love.”

 _Oh no,_ she thought. _This is not going to be easy…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was updated on my tumblr a good 24 hours before I uploaded it to AO3. If you want an early sneak peak to any updates, follow me [@lovethecrystalrose](http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com)!
> 
> I'm going to try my best to stick to a schedule of updates strictly to Sundays, but I make no promises. The job I work is very unpredictable--I'm a writer and my clients demand a lot of my attention, but in my free time, I will write as much as possible! To know what's going on in my life and whatnot, check in on my tumblr ;)
> 
> Also, this story is un-beta, so any mistakes you fall across are mine and I apologize. I absolutely hate spelling and grammatical errors, but I am only human.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche tries to live side-by-side with Eros, but it proves more troubling than she anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter has not been beta-read, so all mistakes are my own and unfortunately, I did not have the time to reread it the 100,000 times I normally do. So, if I make a mistake, let me know and I'll correct it ;)

# Chapter Five

* * *

 

Even though she questioned her decision of letting Eros stay, oddly enough, he had become the spitting image of a polite guest. The next few days that followed found Psyche attempting to adjust to the fact that Eros was practically living under the same roof. She had anticipated him turning up the notch in wooing her like he had originally promised, but after she announced her conditions, he had immediately backed off.

And it made her even more confused.

Instead of questioning it, she tried to carry on with her life as if he hadn’t appeared on her doorstep—returning to her compositions and tending to her passions. There were things she wasn’t able to do with him around; she had yet to determine whether he was trustful or not to include him in those activities.

Throughout the years, Psyche had discovered there were others like her—mortals punished with immortal life, hiding from a rage. With the help of Zephyr, they both had uncovered a large community of forgotten immortals and ever since, they had both taken it upon themselves to work each person back into society. It was hard, grueling work, and with each person Psyche worked with, she grew to resent the Gods more and more.

Zephyr, she could tell, had taken notice to her resentments and on a deeper level, it pained him. It wasn’t intentional or personal in regards to him, but she couldn’t help it. Thankfully, she had yet to run into a single person who was placed in an immortal curse because of Eros.

It appeared she was the first and only.

Though there were plenty there because of Aphrodite, many who either had lost their sight or had aged to a specific point in time before stopping so that their beauty had faded completely. It was horrifying the numbers she had uncovered and it wasn’t just Aphrodite. There were many there because of Zeus or Hera, a handful due to Athena, Dionysus, Demeter—the list was endless.

Zephyr had no explanation to her questions when they first discovered the helpless immortals. He simply said most, if not all, were simply forgotten by the very God who punished them and offered nothing further. What could he say? There was no defending his fellow pantheons; in fact he was just as appalled as she was—if not ashamed.

The day they uncovered this secret society, he had turned to Psyche and hugged her tightly, whispering his apologies over and over while she silently cried for those forgotten by their deities, punished severely and immorally for some inane wrongdoing. It wasn’t right nor was it fair, she reasoned. Mortals weren’t perfect, they made mistakes, but Gods acted so perfect when they really weren’t.

Sitting in her living room tuning her violin, Psyche glanced across the way to see Eros taking in her entertainment center with vivid curiosity and wondered if he knew. Perhaps he didn’t, but until she knew for sure, she wasn’t about to tell them. She had promised herself to keep them all safe, like Zephyr kept her safe.

“It’s a TV,” she said as she fiddled with the D string, her eyes downcast. From her peripheral, she saw Eros turn his head towards her before taking in the large screen with interest. “You turn it on and it plays pictures and sounds, music and games even.” She frowned down at her instrument and reached for her tuner and bow. “I’ve wasted countless hours in front of that thing,” she murmured mindlessly.

The thing sprung to life and Eros took a cautious step back. She heard an amused chuckle behind her and she saw Zephyr laughing with the remote in hand. “They also say if you stand too close it melts your brain,” he teased.

Eros’s curious gaze turned wary as he took another step back and Psyche had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. She threw Zephyr a playful glare. “You’re an asshole.”

He shrugged. “So? It’s still funny.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back towards Eros who was now watching her intently. “Don’t believe him; it’s just not good for your eyes.” Lifting the violin to below her chin, she strut the bow across the strings and played a few notes, listening carefully. There was a dip in the couch next to her as the God of Love took a seat, but she chose to ignore him as she focused on preparing for her next composition.

It was hard with him sitting there staring. Psyche hated when people gathered just to watch her compose—she was only ever willing to play when her piece was finished, but she felt compelled to keep quiet instead of voicing her discomfort.

Zephyr, on the other hand, had no qualms with doing so.

“You’re lucky,” he called from somewhere around the kitchen. His voice grew closer. “Whenever I try to watch, she yells at me to go away. That I’m distracting her.” Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he hung her out to dry. “She only ever lets me listen when she’s finished whatever it is she’s working on.”

She stopped playing and huffed a breath of annoyance.

Eros obviously mistook it and went to stand, his face scrunched with guilt. “I didn’t mean…”

“No!” Psyche interrupted, setting her violin down on her lap. “I don’t mind, I just…” She winced at the awkwardness that was created and cursed her guardian who mysteriously disappeared after wreaking his havoc. _Subtle it was not_ , she thought bitterly. She sighed and Eros waited patiently. This was the first time all week she had conversed with him alone.

It was easier talking to him with Zephyr around, but apparently the God of the West Wind had grown tired of her childish antics and took it upon himself to force a private conversation to happen.

Well, fine.

She bit her lip. “I don’t typically like people hearing me as I compose. It’s too…intimate, I guess.” She winced inwardly. Poor choice of words to use around the God of Love—the master of desire and all things intimate.

He smiled softly. “I understand.” He looked away and chuckled.

She frowned at him. “What?”

Eros shook his head. “I was just thinking of the last time you had told me something was too intimate.” Psyche blinked and her cheeks turned a light shade of red as his smoldering eyes met hers. “Remember?” he asked softly, his tone creating goosebumps on her skin along with the visual that played in her mind.

Her hands began to tremble as she felt the familiar stirring of arousal spiraling within her and she pressed her thighs together tighter. “I remember you being a cad and sneaking up on me while I was bathing.” Why was she even bothering to play along?

He grinned wickedly. “Those who are married often bathe together,” he reasoned, his words mimicking those of the past, of that very night they were discussing.

Her eyes narrowed at him, her ridiculous heart thumping away erratically. “I was still adjusting to my surroundings. I had only been there for one night.”

There was a spark behind those baby blues of his at her response and he looked positively thrilled. “And yet you lay by my side all night completely—”

“Don’t say naked!” She interrupted, holding a finger up to stop him.

He pressed his lips together, but he couldn’t contain the mirth on his face. He was playing with her, she knew, and enjoying every second of it. Eros was always known to be a trickster, the type to pull pranks and jokes. He had always loved to tease her and time hadn’t changed that.

“May I say bare, then?”

“No.”

“Devoid of clothing?”

“Absolutely not!”

He shook his head. “Then what can I say?”

“Nothing,” she glowered. “You can say absolutely nothing!”

Eros stared at her for a brief second before he nodded and said, “And yet you lay beside me all night wearing absolutely nothing!” Psyche gapped at him and he snickered. With a shrug he stated, “You said I could say absolutely nothing.”

“I didn’t mean in that way and you know it!”

“You weren’t specific enough,” he taunted playfully.

She scoffed, her eyes running up and down the length of him, the action poor as she took note of his well defined muscles and beautifully tanned skin. She had to force herself to turn away, instead packing her violin away. “I can see you haven’t changed. You still love playing your games.”

As she stood, he had reached out and grasped her hand, halting her from leaving. Psyche turned to look down at his hand and then at him. Gone was his playful antics and in their wake, a more serious and daring God was left—a man on a mission.

“Who said I was playing?” He asked, his tone going from light to deep and husky. His fingers caressed her hand, working from her palm to the inside of her wrist, feeling her unsteady pulse. She shivered and it was hard to keep her eyes from fluttering closed.

He stood from the couch and lifted her hand so he could press a kiss to her fingers, making sure each one was paid special attention. It was embarrassing how loud her breathing was, her chest heaving with each inhale and exhale.

“What are you doing?” She asked breathlessly.

Eros cocked a brow at her as he gave her pinky finger a lingering kiss. “Nothing,” he whispered.

“It seems like something.” She had to swallow to keep herself from moaning as he turned her hand over and began kissing the underside of her fingers and the inside of her palm. “It seems like you’re ignoring my conditions.”

“Never,” he breathed against her skin, his tongue peeking out to lick along her index finger, his teeth giving the tip a small nibble.

She shook her head. “I told you, you couldn’t woo me.”

Eros smiled. “No, you said I had to accept that you moved on. You never said I couldn’t try to win you back.”

“What?” She pulled her hand from his and stepped away from him.

His arms fell to his side. “You seem surprised.”

“That’s because I am!”

Looking confused, Eros took a step forward only for Psyche to meet it with a step backwards. He frowned at her. “Why? Haven’t I made my intentions clear?”

Her brow furrowed. “Frankly, ever since you arrived, I’ve been nothing short of confused.”

“I told you,” he began gently. “I will do what it takes to earn your trust back.”

She breathed a laugh, but there was no humor behind it. “That doesn’t tell me anything! It doesn’t explain why you’re here! Why now, all of a sudden?” As she spoke, her voice increased in volume and her hands gestured wildly. “It’s been two thousand years, Eros! And what? You suddenly got lonely and decided to look up your ex? Because that’s really hard to believe!”

Eros looked shocked—if not a little affronted—at her outburst, his eyes wide and cautious. “You believe I would treat you as a conquest? A quick tumble beneath the sheets?” He was in disbelief when she didn’t deny his words.

“You told me I was no different from the rest!” She spat angrily at him. “So what would you have me believe when you suddenly show up on my doorstep after two millennia of separation?” She pulled away and rounded the couch, giving him her back when she felt the prickle of tears. It gave her plenty of time to rub furiously at her eyes till they vanished. “You can’t expect everything to be okay! Nothing is the same!” She faced him, glaring with glassy eyes. “You have no idea the kind of hell I’ve been through and to have you just waltz back into my life tossing out apologies and kissing my hand isn’t going to fix anything!”

“Psyche…” He spoke, lost for words.

“Why are you here, Eros?” Her tone was almost begging, but the way she spoke it was demanding of an answer. “I’m not your wife anymore!” He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, “I’m not your lover; I’m not your anything! So why are you here?”

Tears finally escaped the corners of her eyes and at the sight of them, he instinctually pressed forward with the intention of wiping them away like old habits dictated, but Psyche warded him off, speaking without thought, but merely acting on pure emotion, panic, and the desperate need for reassurance. “Did your mother send you to find me? Is that why you’re here?”

He paused. “What does my mother have to do with this?”

It didn’t take a genius to recognize sincerity and ignorance. Eros, she realized, truly had no idea the hand his mother played in their separation. Zephyr was right, he was here of his own accord, not of his mother’s.

Psyche scrambled to recover. “Nothing, forget it,” she said in earnest. She reached across the back of the couch for her violin case before quickly turning to escape down the hall. “I’m tired, I’ll see you in the morning!” she called as she tried to casually rush along.

Eros, though, wasn’t having it as he sped down behind her, his hand curling around her arm to stop her. “Psyche, wait!” He turned her to face him, his eyes set hard and firm. “What does my mother have to do with this?” He repeated.

She tugged at her arm. “I told you, nothing! I’m just upset!”

He held steadfast, his eyes narrowing. “Did she do something to you?”

“Eros, please, let me go!” When he didn’t, she said, “You’re hurting my arm.” That did the trick. The moment he released her, she sped off to her room, her former husband close behind her.

“Psyche wait, please!” He pleaded with her, but it fell on deaf ears as she closed the door behind her, only offering him a muffled and short goodnight.

He stood there, baffled and mildly irritated, staring at her door. The day hadn’t turned out at all like he had hoped; instead taking a drastic turn in a direction he was hoping to breach carefully. Yet, at the same time, it was enlightening. If his line of work taught him anything, it was to read people and Psyche was desperately trying to keep him from uncovering something.

One thing he was sure of, it had something to do with his mother.

It always did.

 

*    *    *

“You did what?!”

Psyche winced at his tone as she sheepishly repeated, “I almost told him about Aphrodite.”

Zephyr stared at her in shock. “So let me get this straight. I leave you two alone to _talk,_ ” he used air quotations, “and instead he puts the moves on you and you yell at him about his mother?” He shook his head and scoffed. “Are you insane?! Are you _both_ insane?!”

“Keep it down, Zeph!” She whispered firmly, her hand coming up to cover his mouth before she glanced over her shoulder for any eavesdroppers. They were currently standing on her balcony just outside her living room, Eros somewhere inside, probably occupied with a new gadget he had yet to discover.

Ever since the previous night happened, Psyche made it her mission to avoid him at all costs. From the moment she left her bedroom it had been a challenge. Eros was awake and waiting for her—ready to confront her—but thankfully Zephyr had been awake too and she latched onto him like a leech.

The whole day had been a game of hide-and-seek crossed with tug-of-war and Psyche was exhausted. After hours of being followed and dragged into inane errands, Zephyr had snapped on her, demanding an explanation.

So, here they were on the balcony, speaking in hush tones to prevent Eros from overhearing. Who knew where he was and that thought alone was unsettling.

When she released him, he said, “So, that’s why you’ve been acting weird.”

She rolled her eyes. “It got really heated last night and he wouldn’t let it go!”

“Of course he wouldn’t!” Zephyr argued. “You basically accused him of being sent by his mother to find you and when you found out otherwise, you wouldn’t explain why! Wouldn’t you be suspicious? And on top of that, Eros has not been close with Aphrodite ever since you came along, so any mention of her has his feathers ruffled.”

Psyche looked away. “I didn’t mean to ruin their relationship.”

“No,” he shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Aphrodite has used Eros for eons and when he found you, he got tired of it. He discovered a better purpose to his life than being at her beck and call.”

She grew silent and then she murmured, “And that’s why she hates me. She blames me.”

Zephyr nodded. “There’s no denying she’s petty, Psyche. It took Eros a little longer than the rest of us to catch on. He didn’t realize it until he met you.”

Psyche pulled away from the railing, catching a glimpse of the very man’s back as he entered her kitchen. “That’s why he can never find out.” She glanced up at Zephyr, noting his scowl of disapproval at her decision. “I don’t want him to hate his mother because of me. Don’t tell him.” Her tone carried the order clearly and his jaw tightened before he forced his head to bow in agreement.

“I don’t approve,” Zephyr admitted darkly. “He deserves to know.”

As she began to head towards the door, she turned back to him with a cocked brow. “Does he, really?”

“You’re his wife—”

“Former,” she retorted. “And that means nothing, especially in this day and age.”

“Psyche, this is ludicrous!”

“I don’t trust him!” She bit out. “I don’t trust him with my secrets, with my past, or with my heart. And I don’t trust him to not run back to his mother or Zeus!”

Zephyr looked saddened. “You despise us Gods so much.” Tears glossed her eyes at his words. He continued, “And we have no one to blame but ourselves. But Psyche,” he stepped forward, pleading. “Be better than us. This hiding, this secrecy… it’s what got you in this mess in the first place. Don’t let history repeat itself.”

Psyche looked out at the skyline, contemplating his words, her arms coming up to wrap around her middle. She sighed as she came to a decision.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll work on my trust issues, but Eros needs to prove himself before I go spilling my guts.”

“This sounds an awful lot like a test.”

She shrugged. “Why not? I was given three. And at least this will be fair,” she defended bitterly.

Zephyr held his hands up and backed away. “What did you have in mind?”

Her thoughts drifted to the immortal community, but those people trusted her to keep them safe. Could she believe Eros to keep them a secret as well? She knew his help would inspire the people, his words and actions would help to bring an end to the rage that followed each one.

“I don’t know,” she said as she watched Eros drift around in the kitchen before his eyes lifted to meet hers. “But I’ll let you know when I do.”


	7. Interlude: The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche must deal with the consequences of her actions, only to discover that she wasn't the only one to be punished... Takes place before she has officially met Zephyr, but sometime after being forced from Aphrodite's temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, to give you all a HUGE fair warning...
> 
>  
> 
> **FLASHBACK CHAPTER - EXPLICIT ADULT CONTENT WARNING - EXTREME GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF RAPE AND SLAVERY – TRIGGER WARNINGS - READ AT OWN RISK**  
> 
> 
> And let me say this... **THIS IS A VERY CONTROVERSIAL CHAPTER** and I do not condone anything that is being done. If you are among those of the fainted heart or are under the age of 18, **TURN AWAY IMMEDIATELY!!**
> 
> This story is rated E for a reason and this chapter will show you why.
> 
> P.S. Thank you to a very close friend who gave me the courage to write this!

# Interlude: The Beginning

* * *

 

_—approximately 2,000 years ago_

The air was unbelievably cold, but with the changing of the seasons, it was to be expected. However, Psyche had been traveling for so long, she had lost track of time. She had no idea of the day or how much time had passed since she was deposited from Aphrodite’s temple. She couldn’t remember if this was the first winter or the third—everything muddled together, her days passing like a dream. All she knew to do was walk.

And walk she did.

After awhile, the trees and rough terrain had smoothed out until she was greeted by a harbor. It wasn’t hard to smuggle herself onto a ship—the majority she came across were littered with crates and buzzing with so much activity that she was able to walk directly onto one of the decks. People more than likely took her rugged and haggard appearance as a sea wench and didn’t bother to question her.

She stowed herself safely away deep within the cargo, only emerging at night to feast off the leftovers the crew abandoned. When the ship finally made port, Psyche noticed she had entered yet another city— _Delos_ from the looks of it.

The birthplace of Apollo and Artemis.

Delos was the heart and soul of trading, but as the years drew by and after countless plundering, what had been a popular and prospering island became more known for thievery and trafficking. Stories of this vast land had reached Psyche’s kingdom and as she descended the platform and took in the view, she shivered in remembrance.

This was not the place she was hoping to end up.

Ever since she had awoken in the middle of a large field with nothing but the clothes on her back, Psyche had thought to return to her home, but once she reached the gates, she took notice that the guards who stood in place had been different from the last time she visited. Her father, she had discovered not long after, had been laid to rest many years ago and one of Psyche’s nephew’s had ascended to the throne. A striking and disturbing thought to know years had passed while she remained the same.

The whole kingdom had forgotten her—her nephew never knew of her—her sisters had chosen not to speak of her.

When that failed, she turned to her sister’s neighboring kingdoms to find one city had been completely burnt to the ground—desolated and cursed by the goddess Demeter—while the other was whole and intact, but her eldest sister had jumped to her death from the highest cliff just outside the palace walls.

It was then Psyche discovered the rage that was following her was not solely directed at her, but her family as well. Her foolish acts resulted in the death of her baby, her two sisters and her father. She didn’t bother returning to see how her nephew would fare.

She had felt sick.

So, she walked, wandering aimlessly. She was no princess, having lost her identity the moment she left her home to marry a God. Everything she had ever held dear was taken from her and the longer she walked, the more cynical and bitter she became.

She would fit in well amongst the crowd of Delos.

Psyche shuffled along the dirt paths, making sure to avoid bumping into people and trying her best to remain invisible. The last thing she wanted was to be noticed. Human trafficking—more specifically sex slavery—had taken over the trading industry and although the city was still rich from countless slave masters coming to collect their property, it was dirty and tainted with numerous poor souls.

She passed along an alleyway, clutching a torn _himation_ around her shoulders, making it so a large piece covered her head and hid her from view. To anyone, she was nothing more than a common beggar, and she was silently grateful for her dirty appearance.

It made her look undesirable and although there was a time she would’ve been appalled, now wasn’t one of those times.

Passing a large marble statue of a lion, Psyche paused to admire the beast. It was one of eleven guardian lions that protected the island, left behind by Apollo to watch over his worshippers. She frowned as her eyes roamed.

It was mighty in stature with a long body that towered her, but it did nothing to spark fear in her like it was meant to. In her mind, Apollo was meant to protect this island—Artemis even. But as it appeared, both had long abandoned their people.

As she moved forward, Psyche’s frown deepened as she watched peddlers shove naked men and women onto the ground in a kneeling position. She shifted her _himation_ to cover more of her face, but it did nothing to block the view.

Her heart was pounding erratically in her chest as she listened to the women sob on the ground while the others called out to their deities. The men were faced forward on their knees, the platform behind them, their bodies positioned just so to showcase every little detail from the hard expanse of their chest to the length and girth of their penis.

Nothing else mattered.

The women were placed in a more humiliating state—instead of kneeling, they were rolled onto their backs so their legs were bent and spread. It gave promising slave masters an eyeful of everything and Psyche had to turn away in disgust, her eyes lining with tears.

How could the Gods allow this?

As she attempted to move on, she saw a large man step forward, his eyes critical as he looked over each person. She nearly gasped as she saw him reach out to stroke along one man’s skin before taking his flaccid penis in hand and weighing it. He dropped it with a _harrumph_ and moved down the line, the slave shaking with his eyes trained on the ground.

When the master moved onto the women, poking and prodding at breasts before dipping between legs, Psyche forced herself forward. Behind her, she heard muffled cries and her eyes shut tightly as she clutched at her _himation_ like it was her shield.

Soon, day began to turn to night, and although the city was busy during the light of the sun, it was night when it was at its most dangerous.

Unable to afford a room anywhere, Psyche slept outside, having grown used to the company of the stars and cool air. It took her some time to find a quiet, deserted spot, but when she did, she immediately depressed into the dirt, the tall grass hiding her from view as she laid back. It was a small comfort to know no one would be able to see her as she rested and she stared up at the sky watching as the tiny lights twinkled without a care.

As she lay there, her mouth opened to give her nightly prayers, her tone soft spoken, but not wavering.

“Father Zeus, protector of the weak; help me to be strong against my fears.”

She thought briefly of Aphrodite, of how she should fear little with nothing left to live for. As she continued, the wind picked up and gave her a might chill.

“Father Zeus,” Psyche repeated, “protector of the wronged; help me to do right by all I meet.” She could feel the brushing of the grass against her cheek, but she paid it little attention. “Father Zeus, protector of the home; help me to safeguard those within my walls.”

The wind had yet to let up, making her previously calm voice tremble as she finished. “Father Zeus,” she called out to the darkness, her eyes misting from the whipping of the wind. She blinked when she was met with a drop of rain from a cloud that was moving to cover the moon. “Help me to do what I must,” she begged, “and be with me as I walk in the world, alone.”

She closed her eyes, imagining her prayer soaring into the heavens to Olympus, but she knew it was falling on deaf ears. For many seasons, Psyche spoke the same prayer over and over, pretending it warranted her strength as she roamed, dreaming it would one day be answered, but as she lay there with the sky opening up to release its own punishment upon her, she wept quietly, accepting that she had been abandoned like the rest.

 

*     *     *

 

It was the jarring feeling of being lifted that awoke Psyche. It was strange how easily she fell asleep with the light droplets of rain pelting her over and over. Groggily, she opened her eyes and frowned as she muttered, “Husband?”

It had been a ritual for her to be awoken by Eros in the morning before she knew who he was—having decided to call him husband until she learned his identity. Every day, he would wake her before the sun rose, his body molding to hers until it was hard to tell where one started and the other ended.

This was not one of those occasions.

“Husband?” she heard a deep male voice chortle. “If that’s what you’re looking for, I can be him for the night.”

Psyche’s eyes snapped open in shocked terror to find her in the arms of a strange man with a bushy, bearded face and crooked teeth. She screamed and struggled, making his hold on her tighten, proving he had experience with intolerant people.

“Make her quiet and put her with the rest,” another gruff voice demanded.

It was hard to see with the way she was carried, she was pressed so tight to this man her face was practically buried in his chest. As her nose brushed against his dirty clothes, the putrid smell of sweat, musk, alcohol, and another scent she wasn’t familiar with filled her senses, making her want to vomit.

It was hard not to.

Her intense nausea made her mouth water as her body tried to force itself to regurgitate, and as soon as she was tossed up against a large wooden carriage, she bent at the waist and emptied her stomach.

The man who carried her leapt back with a disgusted yell. “Disgusting wench!”

Psyche was lifted upright and the back of a hand met her cheek with a resounding _clap_ , leaving behind a strong stinging sensation that made her twist and bring tears to her eyes. She cried out, but was unable to protest before another hard slap hit the same spot. She fell to her knees, her dirty skin landing in her own vomit and she heard the crunching sound of the gravel as someone approached.

“Still your hand, Vertias!” This voice was new, but Psyche’s cheek hurt too much to lift her head and look. In fact, she could feel it begin to swell, and her shaking hand rose to touch the sore spot. “She must remain whole for the auction!”

“She’s a filthy little thing,” the other complained. “Even now, she sits in her own puke!”

“You’ve fucked worse than her, so keep your qualms to yourself.”

Psyche flinched at their words, fearing the worst. If what they spoke were true, she would be disrobed and displayed as hideously as the women from the other day. The thought made her stomach churn and a frighten sob choke up in her throat.

Behind her, she heard other voices, women from the sounds of it. Angrily, a hand rapped on the wood surface of the carriage. “Keep it down in there!” In her line of sight, she saw feet moving back and forth, and then, “Lift her.”

Her eyes widened as a pair of strong hands found purchase beneath her arms and effortlessly lifted her to her feet. Her knees buckled and she turned her face away as her back met the rough carriage behind her unsteadily. Then, her chin was seized and she cried out at the harsh handle in which the grip took her delicate face.

Her tangled black hair was brushed from her face to reveal dirt smudges, a bruise, and a frightened gaze. The one who held her was the bearded oaf, but beside him was a lankier looking man with curly hair that hung to just below his ears. He was clean unlike his companion with sharp eyes and a square jaw.

If this were any other time, Psyche would’ve admired him as handsome, but he was anything but. He looked her face over coldly, taking in her filthy appearance with a slight curl of his upper lip, but when he spoke, he said, “For someone so incredibly dirty, she is quite beautiful.” He paused as if thinking over a quick decision before asking, “Where are you from?”

Psyche’s eyes shifted warily between the two men, but she kept her mouth shut, her lips pressed tightly to show she refused to answer. Eyes narrowed into slits and she groaned painful as her face was forcefully shaken in the grip.

“Answer him!”

Breathing heavily, she shifted her eyes to look upon her assailant and she glared before gathering enough courage to hock a small amount of spit into his face.

The next thing she knew, she was thrown on the ground, her skin scraping. Something heavy settled on top of her and fingers wormed into her hair and pulled her head back. Just when she thought her face was going to meet the earth, a booming laugh stopped him.

“Vertias, enough!”

He growled and turned, “Why?”

“She is feisty, she is beautiful, and she will sell to the highest bidder. If you scuff her, no one will be willing to break her spirit because she will already look broken.” Then his tone changed to one of sinister promise. “Do not cost me.”

Vertias lifted off her reluctantly and Psyche closed her eyes as tears leaked from the corners, her body trembling uncontrollably at what could’ve happened.

In hindsight, it would’ve been mercy.

 

*     *     *

 

There was nothing to be done with the broken skin on Psyche’s arms—Vertias rough manner had damaged her enough. The lankier man had taken a look at blood from the wounds and seethed, complaining her value had dropped significantly because of it.

Once she was lifted off the ground by the back of her _himation_ , Psyche was shoved into the back of the carriage where a crowd of women cowered, many already naked, half significantly younger than she appeared. Her heart broke at the sight, but she didn’t have it in her to offer sympathies and comfort, nor did she bother to speak her complaints as they were hauled across the island.

It was the rage.

It had finally caught up to her.

Of course, there was no way to prove Aphrodite had any true handle in this, but Psyche had become so resentful that it didn’t matter. She would blame her regardless.

“We must escape!” one of the women cried. All eyes turned to her, including Psyches who had strangely fallen flat. “If we combine our strength, they will be no match! We can upturn this carriage!”

“Don’t be a fool!” a younger girl snarled with tears streaking down her face. “They own Delos! We will have nowhere to run to before they catch us again!”

“Please!” the older woman begged. “I have a daughter! I cannot leave her behind!”

“You must,” others argued. “It won’t be soon before you forget completely who you are. Just accept it.”

“No!” The denial was screamed and burning eyes turned to Psyche who stared back emptily. “You there! You’re the newest! You can help us! Please!”

Without bothering to blink, the forgotten princess turned her head away and tucked her arms around her middle. _What was the use_ , she reasoned silently. She could escape this attempt now, but more would come later. Aphrodite would win and Psyche would forever live to regret the day she met Eros.

She had nothing left to live for.

Why bother?

As soon as she gave the woman her back, she heard a pitiful sob that tugged at her nearly stoned heart. It was hard to block out, but for the duration of the ride, Psyche had withdrew inwardly.

It was when they came to a stop that everyone fell silent. Outside the carriage, she could clearly hear movement and muffled voices and then, the back of the carriage was unlatched and the bearded man, Vertias, stood there glowering.

“Alright, out with the lot of ya!”

Psyche hesitated but one after another each woman was forced out either by their arm or their waist. When it finally came to her, he leered and she shivered unpleasantly. His large hands took hold of her hips and before he lifted her, he squeezed, his fingers digging into her backside and spreading her cheeks. It was only for a second and thankful he did nothing more as he brought her to a stand and shoved her to the gathering women.

They were back deep within the city, standing outside a building with fabric hanging in the windows. It was crude and small, and nothing compared to the luxurious lifestyle Psyche was accustomed too.

Walking along out front were several people avoiding eye contact and she watched them suspiciously until her vision was filled with Vertias holding shackles. Unable to jump back, he placed the shackles on her wrists, giving her a lingering look before moving further down the line. Holding up her arms, Psyche shook her confines, testing their durability with a panic, realizing each one was attached to the other women, forming a long line.

A whistle snapped her from her panic and with wide eyes, she glanced up to see the lean man standing beside Vertias with what appeared to be a gentle smile, but she knew it was mocking.

“Ladies,” he greeted softly. “Welcome to Delos. From now on, you are no longer citizens, you are property.” He eyed each one carefully with a warning. “You will do as I say without complaint, you will speak only when spoken too, and you will spread your legs like the Gods designed you too!”

A snivel made him pause and he turned slowly to the interruption with slitted eyes. He marched forward to the hunched over figure and with quick reflexes, grabbed the woman by her throat and lifted her till she was standing straight, her face scrunched with snot and tears. “You will stand with confidence so clients will want to pay to fuck you. If I catch you crying, I will give you to my friend,” he gestured to Vertias. “Understand, darling?” he spoke gently, but threateningly at the girl and she nodded as she tightened her jaw to keep herself from crying more.

Letting go of her, he turned back. “Trust me, he will do more to you in a single night than any of our clients could dream of and you will not enjoy one second of it.” Vertias snickered and licked his lips, and Psyche shuddered. Facing the group, the leaner man pulled a smile. “You will service when required until you are sold at auction. You are to remain clean and fed. Clothing is not your priority.”

With a critical eye, he asked, “Do we understand each other?” No one dared to speak and as a collective, Psyche could practically taste the fear and it was pungent. “Good,” he smirked. “From now on, you may call me Master. My name is of unimportance and so is yours.” Turning to his accomplice, he tilted his head, “Get these ladies cleaned and fed. They’re working tonight.”

“With pleasure,” Vertias purred. He took up the length of the chain that connected each of the girls and snapped it, tugging at it and pulling them along like cattle.

Psyche kept her eyes to the ground, briefly wondering if Eros knew of her whereabouts and whether he cared.

It didn’t matter anyways.

With time, he would forget her.

 

*     *     *

 

“This is where you will bathe daily,” Vertias called out. “When you are not servicing, you will have chores. Laundry, cooking, cleaning, making up the rooms after each night, and whatever else your Master’s and handlers deem of you.”

He led them into a courtyard with a large pool, the water steaming from a hot spring beneath the earth and glistening like the purest liquid blessed by the Gods. Along the wall on the other side of the courtyard were a series of columns and a wall with a shelf that stretched the length of the wall. It was lined with various soaps and scents.

The moment everyone was gathered inside, Vertias whistled and a door opened to reveal three more men, each carrying either a long javelin or sharp swords and daggers. They stood just beyond the door, emotionlessly and muscular.

“These men will constantly be on watch as you bathe. Don’t attempt to escape or we will share you,” he chuckled. “Now,” Vertias shuffled forward with a set of keys in hand. He unlocked the first girl and commanded, “You will bathe one at a time tonight.”

Giving the shaking girl a lustful look, he spat, “Take off your clothes.” When she hesitated and stared at him wide eyed, he snarled. “Don’t make me tear it from your body!”

With the threat deep in her mind, the girl obeyed and Psyche had to turn her gaze away in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. If only she hadn’t fallen asleep; if she had continued further into the island, she could’ve avoided this.

Maybe.

She could hear Vertias humming with approval as he watched each girl disrobe, step into the water, and clean herself. When he presented a side profile, Psyche could clearly make out his hardened length and noted he didn’t even try to hide it.

It was when he unlocked the shackles that bound the girl to Psyche that changed everything. Throughout the entire time, she could feel her shivering as she tried to hold herself up, her lips quivering and her eyes shifting between Vertias, the guards, and the way they came.

It didn’t take a genius to see where her mind was. The moment the chain fell, the girl lashed out with a loud cry, shoving Vertias away with a strength twice her size before bolting for the exit.

“Stop her!” Vertias bellowed. The guards immediately sprung into action and Psyche helplessly watched as they tackled the poor girl to the ground, her legs kicking and her mouth opened in a dreadful scream.

“No! Stop! Let me go!” She shouted, her voice breaking with her screeches. “Divine Artemis, I beg you! Smite thee unclean heathen! Show mercy and avenge your worshipful virgin! Please!”

Psyche watched with shockingly dried, but sorrowful eyes as the girl was lifted and hauled away by one of the men who shared a look with the other two as he disappeared. The further they got, the quieter her cries became until there was nothing but silence.

The only thing she could hear was her own heavy breathing.

Vertias huffed in annoyance as he watched the girl get carried away, shaking his head. When the doors shut with a thud, he turned to face the group, but before he opened his mouth, a terrifying scream pierced the air and he smirked as each girl jumped and shivered.

Psyche only flinched, her hands balled into a fist so tight her knuckles were white against the tan of her skin.

“I don’t think I need to remind you what happens if you try to escape,” the bearded man spoke coldly.

Suddenly, the heavy feeling of eyes on her made Psyche glance up slowly. In front of her stood Vertias, licking his lips and providing her what he probably thought was an attractive smirk, but she grimaced at his show of crooked and rotting teeth. “And finally, we get to you,” he murmured darkly. Those eyes lowered over her clothed body, making no move to uncuff her as he silently undressed her with his mind. “I cannot wait to see what treasures lay beneath this garb,” he breathed as he pulled at her dirty _chiton_.

Without instructing her, he lifted his hand and unwrapped the _himation_ from her body, making her shiver as the cool air greet the bare skin of her shoulders. As the cloth fell to the ground, rough, calloused fingers drifted over her nearly flawless complexion, avoiding her wounds as he admired the beauty before him.

Psyche felt sick again, but she feared vomiting and what the consequence would be. Their supposed “Master” was not around to protect her this time and Vertias was taking advantage of it.

The thin straps that held her _chiton_ to her body were pulled and torn and suddenly she was as bare as the day she was born. Instinctively, Psyche brought her shackled hands to cover her breasts, unable to stop the hard quake her body adopted. A low groan drifted into her ears, and she wished her eyes would shut at how pleased it sounded, but nothing was cooperating. Betrayed by her body, her nipples hardened as soon as they met the cold air, and she felt very ashamed.

Goosebumps rose on her skin and she could feel a whimper work its way up her throat but she swallowed it back forcefully.There was no way she would give them the gratification.

“Stunning,” she heard him compliment. Seizing her arms, he yanked them from her breasts with a strength she couldn’t struggle against and to prevent her from covering herself up again, he held them at her sides and pressed himself against her, erection and all.

Psyche had to bite her tongue to keep herself from screaming, her teeth digging into the muscle until she tasted blood.

Vertias cupped her hands and brought them to his length with a deep chuckle. “I guarantee you,” he began as he pressed himself further against her, “I will be the first to have you tonight.” Psyche shuddered away and tried to retract her hands, unable to control the small whimper as he held on, even going so far as to move those hands in a pumping manner as he moaned in her ear. He leaned his forehead against her temple, enjoying the feeling. “And I promise you,” he groaned in her ear, “You will never forget it.”

They stayed that way for several more moments, but to Psyche it felt like an eternity. Tears lined her eyes until she couldn’t make out anything, and he paused their ministrations to expose himself before taking her hands back.

She tried to jerk them away, but it was no use. All she could do was keep her eyes averted on the wall straight ahead as he forced her to touch him.

“I can’t have you now,” he moaned. “But you can still please me in other ways.”

The entire time, Psyche continued to struggle, but when one of his hands let go to trap her around the waist, she knew she had no choice. The women all around her avoided eye contact as they cowered and she knew they wouldn’t risk their own life to help her in this moment.

His hand squeezed hers as he made her run over the leaking tip and as he did so, he shuddered, moaned, and stiffened as he unleashed his seed onto Psyche’s naked belly. Unable to hold back, she cried as she felt the warm substance splatter and drip, her hands coated in the mess and her thighs receiving the same treatment.

Finally, after recovering for a long second against her, Vertias righted himself with a satisfied breath before uncuffing her. He frowned when he noticed the white jizz had leaked onto the shackles and he glared at her as if it were her fault.

“You will clean these chains as punishment for making such a mess,” he growled, displeased.

Psyche barely paid attention as she stood there in complete shock, her hands still curled around nothing. Everything about her was a trembling disarray of emotions as her binds fell to the ground with a _clang._

“Bathe,” he commanded.

Her eyes shifted to his and he stared back harshly. When she didn’t move, he snarled and shoved her forward, making her lose her balance and fall to her knees right at the ledge of the pool. Her hair framed her face as she panted and in the reflection of the water, she saw just how dirty and frightful she looked.

Strangely, she thought Eros would never approve of her appearance, but with a rough kick to her backside, she was quickly reminded of her situation.

Taking a deep breath to calm her fried nerves, Psyche shuffled to her feet and made for the steps that led down into the steaming pool. The moment the water met her skin, she gave the group her back, closed her eyes, and pretended she was back at the palace with Eros on Olympus.

It did little to calm her.

 

*     *     *

 

Later that evening found Psyche barely clothed, her midriff exposed and her breasts bound by a white _striphon_ that ended just below her ribcage. Around her waist was a sheer cloth that was fastened by a gold leaf at her hip, her left leg open and in plain view. Everything about her outfit was scratchy and vulnerable, and although at one time she had become accustomed to nudity thanks to her Godly husband, this was much different.

 

This was horrific.

Leading her about by the hand was a thin woman—her handler. After the bathing session had concluded, Vertias had brought the women to meet each of their handlers; seasoned prostitutes who had adapted to this way of life, enjoyed it even. From there, he left and immediately, they were all put to work until the evening.

For the next several hours, Psyche was commanded to clean sheets, many of which contained dried blood on them, as well as the shackles from earlier before moving on to scrubbing at the marble floors near the entrance. As she performed these tasks, her mind drifted to that of her past servants.

Was this what it was like for them? To be humiliated as she was shoved on her hands and knees to wash an unseemingly dirty floor? Everything already looked pristine aside from the linens and that alone was enough to send Psyche into a panic. It was hard not to cry as she dutifully worked, but somehow she kept her eyes clear.

That is, until the night opened up for service.

Her handler, Atheia she had learned, was patient as she paraded Psyche around, but she was also very naive and extremely oblivious. She never bothered to take care to the fact that Psyche had all but frozen as she worked the coming crowd, flaunting openly and flashing prospective men. She would occasionally nudge her ward to do the same, but it never happened.

It was even worse not to react to being touched without permission. Men would float their way to her, caressing her like a doll or giving her breasts a good squeeze beneath her _striphon_. Throughout all her life, she had grown used to people leering at her for her beauty, but her sheltered life had never prepared her for this. She was never groomed to service others, but to be waited on. Her duties were simple; become a meek wife, bare a son, support her king, and become submissive.

Nothing could ever prepare her for this.

Psyche jerked around the room awkwardly, trying not to make eye contact with anyone as she attempted to find a corner to hide in. All around her, she saw nothing but exposed flesh, heard nothing but grunts and moans, and it all terrified her.

She was not a blushing virgin by any means; not the wife of Eros. But this…

There were no words for how she felt about this.

She wasn’t sure how she had slipped away from Atheia, but soon, she found herself upstairs where it was quieter. Breathing a small sigh of relief, Psyche rushed down the length of the hall until she found an opened door. Her eyes widened at the sight of a fresh room with an open window that provided a perfect view of the night sky and bright moon, and her feet sped towards it.

Just before she reached it, her wrist was seized from behind and she was yanked into a hard body.

“There you are,” she heard a gruff voice announce. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Psyche shuddered as she was turned around and shoved into the frame of the doorway, coming face-to-face with Vertias who was smirking.

“Remember what I told you earlier?” He asked as he ran his nose along her cheek, giving an audible sniff. “You’re mine tonight!”

At his words, Psyche struggled in his arms, her hands pushing at his shoulders and her legs bending to try to knee him as she growled to get away, but what little strength she owned betrayed her. Vertias was mighty in stature and immobile to her attempts.

He laughed. “Try all you want, but it won’t help you.”

Sobbing, she ignored him as she beat on his chest, repeating in her mind over and over that Eros was the only one who would ever have her. Her mouth opened to scream, but the intrusion of his tongue cut her off and she gagged at his breath. It was putrid and rotting mixed with a hint of bitter wine. He pressed his full body against her, her arms trapped between their chests as he licked along her teeth and bit her lips.

Psyche groaned in pain as his sharp incisors broke open her bottom lip and her chest heaved with heavy sobs. Vertias pulled away to drag his wet tongue along the cut before turning his attention to the creamy skin of her neck. He sucked hard, his knees pulling her legs apart so he could rest between them, his erection digging uncomfortably against the apex of her thighs.

She stiffened, unable to move for fear that whatever she did would make things worse. Instead, she cried silently, her trapped hands fisting when he began to thrust against her. His moans were muffled and he rested his forehead against her expanding collarbone, his fingers working at her clothes eagerly.

When she felt his hands on her breasts, she turned her head away, whimpering when he took a nipple into his mouth. He grinned and pulled away, lifting her from the wall and taking her into the empty room, depositing her onto the bed before shutting the door behind him. Finally free, Psyche crawled backwards, but there really was nowhere for her to go.

Vertias unclasped the pendant that held his _chlamys_ together and that was all it took for him to be completely nude. He stepped forward and grabbed Psyche by her ankle and gave her a good yank. She gasped as she was shot down to the bed and pulled towards him, the little gold leaf that held the last of her clothing together disappearing.

She stared at the ceiling, unable to watch, but forced to feel as he pulled the cloth from her body and spread her legs. His hands roamed up her thighs, squeezing them both painfully enough to leave a set of bruises, she was sure, and when he reached her moist center, he slid a finger in and asked, “Are you a virgin?”

Psyche tensed up and brought her arm up so she could bite at the skin to keep herself from screaming; to keep any words from forming. He wanted to talk, but she would never pleasure him with the gift of her voice.

His finger slid in and out of her and he chuckled. “Assuming you had a husband, since that’s what you called me earlier this morning, I would say no, but…” he crawled on his knees towards her and she could practically feel his hardened length tap her against her lower belly. “One can dream.”

He continued to thrust his finger inside her, his thumb reaching up to stroke at her clit once or twice. Her stomach jerked at the feeling and her eyes squinted, making the tears spill over faster. He added a second finger, thrusting faster and harder, and then finally a third. At this point, his hand was pounding away, making Psyche flinch at the feel of his knuckles bruising her. She was more than ashamed to feel a rush of fluid down below even though she wasn’t enjoying a single second of this, but it didn’t matter to Vertias.

He moaned at the sight as he worked himself into a frenzy.

“Definitely not a virgin, but that’s okay,” he confessed. “I can pretend.”

As he said this, he pulled his fingers free and reached for her hand that was currently clenching at the sheets to the point of tearing. He took it and placed it on his member with his own covering hers and her eyes widened when she realized what he intended to do.

But it was too late.

With his hand holding hers, he forced her to guide him inside her and Psyche cried out to the empty sky, to the deaf ears of the Gods, to her husband who had turned his back on her. Vertias groaned on top of her and gave an experimental thrust. His hips gyrated against her, their hands still clasped down below as he rocked inside her deeply, trying his hardest to draw out any kind of sound he could as he pushed forward.

Once he let go of her hand, though, Psyche reacted. She reached up and clawed at his face. He yelped and growled, rearing back and pulling away from her completely to clutch at the bloody scratch marks left behind.

Threatening eyes turned on her and she gasped. The next thing she knew, Vertias was off the bed with her in tow, her body easily lifted into his arms before he twisted her around so she was perfectly placed on her hands and knees on the edge of the bed.

“I was going to ease you into this, but,” he growled angrily, “you seem to have other plans.”

Psyche whimpered helplessly as he pushed on her upper back so her shoulder, chest, and face were shoved into the sheets with her butt in the air. This position was far worse! With him behind her, there was nothing for her to claw at, to kick or bite. She was completely defenseless and at his mercy.

Behind her, she felt Vertias kneel on the bed and she jerked when she felt him spread her cheeks.

“I was going to spare you pain tonight, since the Master seems to hold you specifically in high regard for your beauty, but since I bought you out for the evening,” he chuckled darkly, “you’re mine to do with as I see fit.”

It was then Psyche’s back arched and her mouth opened in a silent, painful scream as he began to fill her tight hole. There was no lubrication to ease the process and Vertias grunted as he pulled back at the halfway mark, spit downward, and then continue forward.

Her hands ripped at the sheets, her fingers nearly breaking under the force as he began to thrust. She tried hard not to make a sound, but the pain was excruciating. It was nothing compared to her first night with Eros.

He was gentle with her, soothing and making sure to coax every reaction he could from her. That night, he made her feel loved and adored even though she had no idea who he was. He had been patient and kind; a loving husband and a master of seduction. He knew when to stop, where to touch, what to say that had Psyche falling apart over and over, begging him for more.

Vertias was simply a monster.

The bed began to rock under the force of his thrusts and Psyche allowed the tears to flow freely. It wasn’t like he could see anyways. She was providing him with no moans, no screams, and barely any whimpers now.

It was like she was quickly becoming numb as her fisted hands loosened on the bed and the light in her eyes dulled. When he reached around her body to play with her clit, she felt none of it.

Soon, she stopped reacting and decompressed, giving in to his will. She drew inwards as her body succumbed to the life of slavery and pleasure, her mind escaping to happier times while her soul began to crack.

 _Someday, he will come_ , her heart promised. _Someday, she would be free._

That day, unfortunately, was a long time to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly hope you were able to get through this chapter. It was very hard for me to write and the entire time, I was very nervous and on edge because trying to capture something so realistic as rape and slavery is always nervewracking and I try to tread lightly. But this was needed for the story.
> 
> Anyways...
> 
> I realized in my previous chapters how much I hated adding the flashback in with the chapter itself. The fact that everything is so divided really bothered me and it also made things a bit confusing—at least on my end. So I’ve decided there’s going to be some chapters that are just solely flashback. Be warned, this contains some aggressive scenes. Also, little fun fact, the city mentioned is a real place, just some of the details are slightly embellished--the fact that it's the birthplace of Apollo and Artemis is true, as well as the slave trade. I just made it seem more gruesome. Also, the island itself is rather small in nature, so in this, I tried to describe it as a large city with hills and vast lands that's surrounded by water.
> 
> Also, a note. The Zeus Prayer in here is not my own. I did research on Ancient Greece Prayers to deities because I wanted something close to authenticity and fell across quite a few. So, here is the link for source review.
> 
> A Brief Prayer to Zeus: https://greekpagan.com/page/4/
> 
> Look it up if you’re interested ;)


	8. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a terrible dream, Psyche finds solace in the last place she expected. Meanwhile, Eros gets a life lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER WARNING**  
>   
>  TRIGGER ALERT - IMPLICATIONS OF SELF-HARM - READ AT OWN RISK! 
> 
> A much more mild chapter, but the angst continues. All mistakes are my own, I hope they aren't glaring.
> 
> This has been up on my tumblr for approximately 24 hours. If you want an early preview before any other site or simply wish to contact me, follow me [**@lovethecrystalrose**](http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com)! I love hearing from everyone <3

# Chapter Six

* * *

 

_—Present Day_

Psyche awoke with a gasp, covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her chest was heaving so fast and hard it hurt. Her body was trembling and her eyes shifted around her dark room to reassure herself she was in her penthouse and not back in the sex trade. It took time—everything was much too dark and there was no moon shining in the sky to provide her with light, but the feel of her soft bed beneath her combined with her cotton sheets and clothed body was enough to remind her that she was not naked and spread.

Unable to control her trembling, her arms came up to brush her locks from her face, her eyes filling with tears. It had been so long since she had a nightmare like that. Once upon a time, she had been plagued with them nightly like a child feared a monster beneath their bed.

For Psyche, she was scared of sleep.

The moment her eyes would close, her mind would conjure up images of her past, reminding her of each and every punishment she endured—of every face that took advantage of her and how it felt.

It took time, a lot of time, until the nightmares became a thing of the past. She could remember when she feared sleeping alone and often begged Zephyr to hold her until the darkness welcomed her back with opened arms. It was due to his comfort and all around help that allowed her to escape the dreams.

Soon, she stopped having them.

Until tonight.

Psyche sobbed on top of the bed, her body curling into a fetal position. She could still feel the rough hands of Vertias on her skin and it was like her body ached from the aftermath of his torment even though nothing happened the previous night. That was enough to scare her into an awakened state.

Her eyes shifted to her bedroom door. It was late—very late. Well past two in the morning and everyone in the penthouse was asleep, but Psyche knew there was no way she could return back to her dreamland without fear of the memories returning. So, she crawled out of bed on fumbling legs, her arms weaving themselves protectively around her waist as she made her way out the door and down the hall.

It was like she was on autopilot as she navigated through the dark. She bypassed several doors until finally she stood before one with her hand raised, ready to knock. She didn’t bother to think of who she had gone to, her feet carrying her where she was needed and as she waited her hands rubbed nervously at her biceps. She knew she looked atrocious—her face was covered in tears, her eyes were surely puffy and red, and she was a trembling mess.

She stared at a spot on the floor as she waited. Movement beyond the door could be heard until it opened to reveal Eros wearing nothing but a pair of red flannel pajama bottoms that belonged to Zephyr. As she took him in, she thought about having to take him shopping and how odd it was to see him dressed so simple. Just as the strange thought popped into her mind, Psyche realized exactly where she was. Typically, she went to Zephyr when this sort of thing happened, but it seemed her feet had other ideas.

“Psyche?” Eros asked in shock, taking in her appearance with wide, concerned eyes. “What…?”

She held herself stiff as she cried and she shook her head. “Please,” she begged. “Please don’t ask… Just…” She licked her lips, tasting the saltiness of her tears as her eyes shifted beyond him to the room. “Can I stay with you tonight? Please?” Her voice was breaking with each word, sounding hoarse, probably from shouting in her sleep.

Eros opened his mouth and then closed it—taken completely aback by her sudden sobbing and terrified appearance. It looked like he was struggling not to ask what happened, but her sincere pleading shot through him and if there was one thing he was certain of, he’d do anything Psyche asked of him.

He was putty in her hands.

So, without giving into his questions, he opened his door wider and stepped out into the hall to take her into his arms. “Of course,” he whispered gently as he embraced her. His hand came up to cradle her head against him, his face crumbling as he listened to her sob, wishing nothing more than to ease her troubles, but she had become so secretive it was difficult.

“Shh, I have you,” he hushed into her hair, pressing his lips to her scalp. “Come, love,” he beckoned her inside without drawing away from her and Psyche complied shakily, her head nestled beneath his chin as he closed the door behind them.

Hearing the audible click of the door shutting made her flinch and him frown further at her reaction. “It’s okay,” he reassured her as he led her towards the bed.

He sat her down and when he was sure she wasn’t going to bolt, he left her side and entered the bathroom, reaching for a cloth. He turned the knob on the sink, finally understanding how to work most of the new machinery of the modern era now that he spent time studying each of them. He wet the cloth, wrung it out and returned to Psyche to find her curled up on her side, her knees drawn to her chest and her hands curled beneath her face—a protective, traumatic position that Eros was familiar with.

He had known his fair share of abused women in the past—having played the unfortunate hand in matching them with their abusers by order of his mother—and he had witnessed on more than one occasion the way they would hold themselves after a beating or worse, a raping. It sickened him to know the extent to which they were punished, but he never had questioned Aphrodite—only followed her blindly believing she was righteous and just. It wasn’t until he met Psyche that he truly saw his mother for what she was. He hated to think badly of the woman, she had given him life, blessed him with his duties and arrows, and he felt a strong obligation to her, but that all changed after he fell in love.

Seeing Psyche in this way tore at his heart and angered him severely.

What happened to her in the last several thousand years? Did his mother have anything to do with it? Did she play a hand in her torment? Was she the reason his Psyche had changed so drastically—became this cold, distance, and untrusting person with a million secrets buried beneath within her damaged soul? He wanted to pry, for the life of him he desperately wanted answers!

But, she had begged him not to ask…

Eros sighed as he knelt down beside the bed. Her eyes opened as he took her face gently and cleaned it of the sticky tears that were left behind. At his loving manner, Psyche only shed more and he shook his head.

“Oh, Psyche,” he breathed. “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong…”

She said nothing as he continued to wipe her face, the hand that cupped her head moving in a soothing pattern. His thumb brushed over her ear, tucking her loose strands away as he worked.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promised softly, hoping his words would get her to talk. “You know I would never.”

Her eyes were staring distantly away from him, unseeing and he wondered if she could even hear him at all. Finally, he placed the wet cloth aside and continued to stroke her hair. “Psyche?” he called to her, praying for any kind of response. She was immobile, silent, and very still—having lost her tremors sometime while he was in the bathroom. “Love? Please talk to me!”

Swallowing audibly, Psyche shifted her glassy eyes to him and whispered, “I’m not ready.”

“Not ready to talk?” Eros asked gently.

She looked hesitant and scared as she answered, “I’m not ready for you to know.”

His brow furrowed as he lovingly threaded his fingers through her hair, feeling it wet, almost greasy even though he could practically smell the shampoo that suggested she had bathed before bed. He felt the need to press, “May I ask one thing?”

Psyche said nothing—giving him no promises and no gestures that she would answer.

Eros continued anyways with the hopes that she would. “Did someone touch you?” He felt his eyes burning at the thought of another man laying their hands on her and an indescribable rage ignited inside him. He needed to know.

But Psyche remained silent. She shifted so that her body was twisted and her back was laid flat on the bed, but her knees were still rolled toward her chest. She reached up to cup his jaw with trembling fingers and stroked his cheek.

It had been a long time since Eros cried and at her willing touch—the first time she initiated contact between them since he arrived—he shed a few tears. This was not how he wanted it to happen—with her frightened and shaking. It sullied the memory, but her touch felt good, so good that he couldn’t help himself. His face turned into her hand so that she held his chin, and he relished it completely.

The moment they shared was far more intimate than anything they’d ever experienced together and all it was was comfort. No kisses, no sex, just the need to heal.

“I’m not ready,” she repeated so quietly, he was sure he would’ve missed it if he weren’t so in tune with her in that moment. “I had a nightmare,” she explained, “and it scared me. But please… give me time. I’m not ready for you to know. Not yet. Not now.”

Eros wanted to argue with her, but at the same time, they had been separated for over two thousand years. He could be patient. Even though she hadn’t confirmed it for him, she didn’t need to. Her silence and deflection told him enough.

He nodded and pressed a delicate kiss to the palm of her hand before finally drawing away from her to stand. Reaching at the foot of the bed, he pulled the blankets over top of her and tucked her in before dropping another kiss, this one on her forehead. Afterwards, he took the wet cloth and returned it to the bathroom.

Emerging, he announced, “I’ll sleep in the chair.” He gestured to the small white chair in the corner of the room. “If you need—”

Psyche sat up then, looking stricken and pleading. “No,” she declared. “Will you…” She fidgeted with her blanket as she asked, “Will you lie beside me?”

There it was again…

She asked—so sincerely, so desperately.

Eros would do anything to wipe that look from her face.

He didn’t need to think over his answer. He made his way to the other side of the bed and pulled back the blankets before crawling in. Looking more stable, Psyche lay back down and turned on her side so she faced him. Eros didn’t reach across to hold her, unsure of how she would react, but she made the decision for him. Her hand slowly moved over the sheets for his and their fingers threaded together perfectly.

His hand was warmer than hers even though he was in his human form—an obvious trait of a God. Zephyr had always felt very warm to the touch, but Eros was significantly hotter, like a passionate flame. As their fingers wrapped around one another, Psyche was instantly reminded of a time when they would fall asleep next to each other with one of his arms around her waist and the other holding her hand.

“I thought I was never going to see you again,” she admitted absentmindedly. “I had resigned myself to the fact that I never would.”

“I’m here,” he whispered to her. “I never gave up on you.”

She allowed his words to wash over her like a soothing balm, but the night was against her—as was her mind. A conscious was vicious and Psyche’s was brutal. The nightmare still plagued her thoughts, a deep seeded reminder of the secrets she still kept, of the hand his mother played in her punishment, of the injustice of it all, and of her bitter resentment against him and the other Gods.

It may have felt good to be reunited, but she was no longer the submissive princess he had fallen in love with. No. This Psyche was changed, forever marred by invisible scars that taught her life was a cruel mistress and death was every mortals reward—something she would never have the pleasure of reaping. Not with Aphrodite’s curse upon her and definitely not with Zephyr guarding her.

She was tired, she was old, and her heart had long since stopped beating.

Looking over at Eros dispassionately, she murmured, “You should’ve.”

 

*     *     *

 

By the time Eros awoke the next morning, Psyche was gone. He laid there staring at the empty spot she had occupied only hours ago, the mattress still compressed from her weight even though she had long abandoned the bed. It was the only thing that told him she had been there; otherwise he was sure it had all been a dream.

It was very early, judging by the small amount of light streaming in through the curtains. He wondered when she had left, if she had slept, and what was going through her mind. Digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, he groaned and sat up.

Last night, aside from the unfortunate circumstance, he had slept better than ever. His body was well rested and his mind was more alert than it had ever been. For the last several thousand years, Eros had forsaken sleep on many occasions in his search for Psyche. It was hard—Zephyr had cloaked her well and with the ban placed on all Gods, there were only a few he could trust to actively help him.

He owed Morpheus deeply.

Rising from the bed, Eros moved towards the bedroom door before making his way down the cold hallway. He stopped outside Psyche’s bedroom, frowning at the sight of her opened door and empty room. He ventured inside slowly and glanced around. It was unusual to see her room—she normally left the door closed, much similar to how she kept herself closed.

It was a rare opportunity Eros felt he couldn’t pass up. Everything about her was laid out for his eyes, everything he had missed. Her bed was unkempt, telling him she wasn’t entirely neat—either that or she didn’t take the time to make her bed after her nightmare the night before.

But then, there were scattered clothes on her floor which only proved she was not a clean person despite her upbringing.

He carefully walked over her piles of clothes as he approached her vanity—the mirror was littered with tiny paintings that he had recently learned were called photographs, most of places she had probably been in her travels and few were of unfamiliar faces. A lot showcased Zephyr and her in a tight embrace, cheesing into the lens. Others were candid’s of the man when he wasn’t looking.

Eros had been smiling softly as he took them all in, but when he realized how many involved the God of the West Wind, his smile drifted away into a frown as the strange feeling of jealousy welled up inside him. It was to be expected, he admitted silently. Zephyr had been around Psyche so much longer, yet that alone made him feel conflicted. He was grateful to his old friend for ensuring her safety, but at the same time he loathed him for his gain and Eros’s inevitable loss.

Zephyr knew so much more about Psyche, even her deepest secrets, he was sure. Eros felt like the odd man out which, in itself, was very unusual. People flocked to him, mostly because of his good looks and sexual charm, but never had he felt like the outcast, not even on Olympus where he was the talk of controversy.

He moved on from the pictures, his head shaking as he attempted to stuff down the feelings of unwant and regret.

The top of her dresser was cluttered with different types of bottles. Curiously, Eros lifted one to his nose and sniffed—it was perfume.  _Strange_ , he thought. He had never smelled any of these scents on her since he arrived. In fact, the bottle was mostly full.

Setting the perfume down, he turned away from the dresser and searched the room, noting in the corner there were a stack of books that had fallen over somehow. He perused through them lazily, not recognizing any of the titles, but a few of the covers had a couple embracing and that made him chuckle. Romance, it seemed, still interested the long forgotten princess.

Standing, Eros turned towards her bed and saw a small thick book laid neatly on her nightstand. Tilting his head, he picked it up and sat on the edge of her mattress, thumbing his way through it. There was nothing on the cover of the book to suggest what it was, but as he opened it and leafed through the pages he realized it was a diary of some sort.

Everything inside was written in her native language—her elegant scripture drawing him in even though he knew it was best to put the book down. He read the first few lines of the page he was on and his brow furrowed deeply.

_“Two in one night. I shouldn’t be surprised. The dreams that plague my nights seem to have a mind of their own and care little for the disturbance of my sleep. I’m so used to having something physical to fight, but how can you fight your own mind? It seems impossible, but with everything I’ve seen impossible becomes just another myth. Is this what she meant for me? To live the rest of my days burdened with my past, to constantly relive those moments of torment until I’m sure to be driven insane? Perhaps I am already mad—that would explain a lot…”_

“What are you doing?”

The tone was spoken accusingly and harsh, and it caused Eros to pop his head up to find Zephyr glaring at him from the doorway. There was a moment where the God of Love felt very inferior to that look he was given. This wasn’t just a protector or guardian he was seeing, this was a man who cared deeply for his charge.

It made his eyes narrow as he sat the book down. “I was looking for Psyche,” he explained.

“As you can see,” Zephyr began. “She’s not here. Which makes me wonder why you’re going through her things?”

Eros’s eyes widened at the distrustful way he spoke. “I meant no disrespect,” he offered as he stood. “She came to me last night in tears. I was just trying to make sure she was alright.”

That changed Zephyr’s demeanor. The God deflated his defensive stance, but concern replaced his anger. “Another nightmare,” he muttered knowingly. Eros nodded, affirming. “She came to _you_?” He asked in shocked disbelief.

Mildly affronted, Eros said, “Yes. Is that so hard to believe that my wife would seek comfort from me?”

“Actually, yes!” Zephyr argued. “If you haven’t notice this last week, Psyche doesn’t exactly trust you. Do I need to remind you that it was _you_ who left _her_?”

“I need no reminder,” he growled. “I remember everything perfectly. Despite our current differences, she sought me out and I gave her what she needed.”

“A quick tumble in your bed, I presume?”

Eros blinked. “You presume too much! How could you say that?”

“Because I know you,” Zephyr added quickly as he walked into the room. “When things can’t be solved with words, you solve them with your body or your arrows, and Psyche isn’t an easy person to talk to. I would know.”

Jaw set in a lock, the God of Love clenched his fists. He hated the idea that Psyche was a complete stranger to him while Zephyr was closer to her than ever. Was this what his mother felt like all the time?

How miserable!

“You seem to know a lot about her,” Eros noted inquisitively.  “Does she have these nightmares often?”

“Used to,” was his response. Zephyr gestured to the hallway. “You may have had good intentions, but Psyche’s room is always off limits, so…” There was no argument as the pair left the room. Behind him Eros could hear the door click shut and Zephyr emerged in front of him, leading him into the living room.

“Do you know why?” He felt the need to ask. If he wasn’t going to get any answers from the source, then second hand accounts were the next best thing.

“Yes,” Zephyr answered short and saying nothing more.

“And you’re not going to tell me?”

There was a sigh and then, “It’s not my story to tell and even if I could, I know I wouldn’t want to hear it.” The God lifted the remote and clicked the TV on, turning it to the news channel—a morning ritual Eros had noticed. “Word of advice regarding Psyche?” Zephyr tossed over his shoulder. “Don’t act so eager, it’ll only make her distrust you more.”

Eros’s mouth turned downwards as he sat on the corner end of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. “I know someone or something hurt her,” he began, hoping that would spark something.

Zephyr took a seat on the opposite end with a huff. “It’s been over two thousand years, Eros,” he grumbled. “Would you be surprised if something _hadn’t_ happened?”

He sat and thought on that for a moment. He felt extremely naïve all of a sudden. Had being out of the mortal loop affected him this much?

“I just wish I knew what I could do to help her—to heal her.”

At that, Zephyr scoffed and turned to him with a glare. “That’s rich and I’m starting to understand why Psyche despises us Gods! We’re so focused on fixing a problem that we never realize _we_ are the problem! And Psyche doesn’t need healing; she’s not broken, so maybe if you stop looking at her as if she was you might get further with her.”

“Not broken?” Eros repeated. “You didn’t see what I saw last night!”

A sad, but smug smirk spread across Zephyr’s face. “I’m sure she was sobbing, probably begged to stay in bed with you. Did she ask you to hold her? Maybe you and her talked until one of you fell asleep, probably you since whenever Psyche has a nightmare, she stays up for the rest of the night fearing sleep and the dreams. And of course, when you wake up, she’s not there because, unlike the Psyche you knew, she hates showing that she has a weakness—absolutely _hates_ being that vulnerable! So she’ll be at the studio all day today, playing her violin until her fingers are bloody to remind her that she’s alive and her dreams are just memories.”

Eros swallowed heavily. He was speechless at the amount of intimate information that was thrown at him. Obviously, Zephyr had experienced this before with her and he wasn’t sure whether he should feel grateful or be jealous—a bit of both maybe?

“So yes,” his old friend stated firmly. “I have seen exactly what you saw.”

“She came to you?”

“Always,” he assured. “That’s why I was surprised when she didn’t last night.”

Eros frowned. “Surprised or disappointed?”

Zephyr cocked a brow. “Are you implying something?”

He shook his head. “No implication needed. You’re in love with her.” It was clearly written on the God of the West Winds face. What a wonder Eros never saw it before. Perhaps he had been so blinded by Psyche he cared for little else. “Are you not?” He asked with a raised brow, knowingly.

Silence stretched between them where both Gods stared each other down.

Finally, after several tense moments, Zephyr cleared his throat and looked away. “Is that a problem if I am?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you intend to take her from me or not.”

With a shake of his head and a crinkle of his nose, Zephyr pointed out, “Is she even yours to take?” He glanced up at Eros. “You have no claim to her. You actually _gave_ _her up_. So if I am in love with her, and I am,” he admitted without hesitation, “there’s nothing you can say that’ll make a difference.” He turned back to the television and as he did so, he added, “And out of the two of us, I can guarantee you I would love her selflessly. I have for centuries.”

There was a spark of anger, but Eros couldn’t deny the truth behind his words. He looked down at the floor thoughtfully. “Does she know?”

At that, Zephyr guffawed. “No! She has too much to deal with! Why would I add my feelings into the mix and complicate things further?” He shook his head, allowing the chuckles to vibrate his chest. “And besides, no matter how much I would love to tell her, I always knew one day you’d be back. Why give her the choice when I already know who she would choose in the end?”

Blown away, Eros stared at his friend. He was an expert in love, but as Zephyr spoke, everything he felt seemed selfish and maybe it was. All these years, this God had risked his position and immortality for one mortal, all-the-while having fallen in love with her and never revealed those feelings out of respect.

He felt very inferior…and it was quite humbling.

Shaking his head, he asked skeptically, “You actually think she’d choose me?”

Zephyr paused. “Well… I’m not entirely sure. Psyche’s a hard nut to crack. But I won’t lie, she’s spent countless years pinning for you—for the chance to talk to you. Now that she has it, I don’t think she knows quite well what to do with herself. It also doesn’t help that she’s learned things always come with a price…”

“I’ve noticed.”

“You can’t blame her,” Zephyr admonished. “Life hasn’t been kind, but she makes the best of it.”

“She doesn’t need to act brave.”

“Trust me, it’s not an act. You’re used to meek, submissive Psyche. I hate to tell you this, old friend,” he clicked his tongue, “but that girl died a long time ago.”

Eros look contemplative, his heart thudding in his chest painfully at the idea that whatever she endured had changed her so much. He remembered her words well from last night.

_“I never gave up on you…”_

_“You should’ve.”_

Taking a leap of faith, he chanced a glance at Zephyr and asked, “What happened to her… How bad was it?”

Zephyr pressed his lips together tightly, not removing his eyes from the screen of the television though his attention was no longer on the news. Eros could see flashes of emotions within his eyes, but they were quick and hard to pin. Finally, the God settled and faced his friend with a look of deep sorrow and utter contempt. “Let’s just say I’d never wish it on any being, living or divine.” He turned back to the news without taking a moment to register Eros’s expression. “That’s all I’ll say on the subject.”

What could be said after that?

So many _what-if_ scenarios played out in his head, each one worse than the other. There was no use dwelling, but he couldn’t help it. None of his questions were really answered, in fact, more seemed to arouse after their intense conversation. But judging by Zephyr’s stance, their talk was over.

“So, in case this happens again,” Eros started, “do you typically wait for Psyche to come home with bloody hands or do you go after her?”

“I give her the space she needs,” Zephyr admitted softly. “If she’s not back before dark, I’ll drag her home,” he added, already knowing the question was about to be asked. He leaned back against the couch with a sigh and exclaimed, “Sorry lover boy! You’re stuck with me today.”

Eyeing the lively screen before them with defeat, Eros rested back against the couch. “I’ll live.”

 

*     *     *

 

As soon as the sun touched the horizon, Eros shot up from his position at the dining room table and immediately headed for the windows. He heard Zephyr sigh dramatically. “Seriously?” There was shuffling and then, “I just took your Queen and now you’re gonna abandon the game?”

“You said dark and she isn’t back yet,” the Love God pointed out.

“Yeah,” was the sarcastic retort. “And it’s dusk, not dark. The sun’s still up for another twenty minutes or so.”

Eros growled impatiently. “Apollo needs to move faster with that damned chariot of his!”

Zephyr hummed curiously. “I thought he retired?”

“What?” the winged creature turned and face the man still hovering over the chess board, confusion written all over his face. “Where did you hear that?”

He was met with a shrug. “I occasionally pop into Olympus to keep up appearances. I overhear things. Ever since this ban was placed, I heard Apollo hung up the reins on his chariot since he could no longer visit his sweet Daphne.”

Eros blinked. “I heard no such thing.”

“Do you even pay attention?” Light eyes drifted over the board to meet his. “I mean, you have been rather absorbed lately.”

“Psyche’s been my main and only priority. I couldn’t shoot mortals and was only allowed to spread love amongst the pantheon which became boring very quickly. Everyone’s either too predictable or too demanding—mortals were simpler and interesting, and I only ever had to shoot them once. Gods, I had to shoot multiple times for effectiveness. After awhile, I withdrew and put all my efforts into finding my wife.” He sighed as he watched the crowded streets below for her familiar head. “I stopped answering my mother’s calls, I ignored council, and I avoided Zeus like the plague. She was all that mattered to me—she still is.”

Zephyr chuckled. “And because of you, I heard your poor mother has one of her crazy harpies spreading the love in your stead with a shoddy aim.”

His features hardened at the mention of Aphrodite. “She deserves to know what it’s like to take on some responsibility.”

“Will you come lay your King down at least so we can call it one?” Zephyr begged out of the blue. “I’m gonna checkmate you in two more moves anyways.”

It took another minute before Eros finally pulled himself away from the window, the tip of sun just dipping below the horizon and casting a warm orange glow over the sky. He glanced down at the board and frowned in concentration. After speculating, Eros reached out and made his move before announcing flatly, “Checkmate.”

Zephyr sat up and stared at the board. “What?” He spat out.

“You left yourself open,” he answered before returning back to the window.

“I thought you said you’ve never played before?”

“I haven’t,” he drawled. “But the strategy reminds me of battle tactics.”

“Fucking Ares,” he heard Zephyr mutter low, cursing the God of War for passing on the knowledge to his son.

Eros couldn’t help the soft laughter that bubbled up.

Zephyr stood over the board, ready to put the pieces away, when the door to the penthouse opened and in walked Psyche, her head hung low and her right hand loosely clutching her violin case. Both men paused and turned to stare at her as she made her way to the counter of the kitchen where she set the case down and immediately retreated quietly into the hallway.

Tossing a look at Eros that clearly said _wait here_ , Zephyr sped down after the girl. Slowly, the Love God followed, disregarding the silent order.

“Psyche?” he could hear from within her bedroom. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine, Zeph,” she protested gently.

“Really? If you’re fine then why are you hiding your hands from me?”

“Just leave it alone!”

Zephyr huffed. “It’ll get infected if I do that. Now let me see!”

“Go away, Zephyr!”

Eros’s eyes widened at the harshness behind Psyche’s voice. In the short amount of time he had been there, she had never spoken to him like that, but there was a clear and direct order—a very cold and firm order in her words. The next thing he knew, the door opened and Zephyr emerged angrily, his back rigid. He eyed Eros and murmured disheartened, “Maybe you’ll have better luck with her.”

He disappeared back into the foyer, leaving Eros alone outside the bedroom. Inside, he could hear gentle shuffling, muffled whimpers of pain, but otherwise it was very quiet. Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked inside to find Psyche attempting to take off her wrist-wrap. Her fingers were red and swollen, and several were bloody and raw—the skin broken to reveal angry flesh beneath.

Without saying a word, he approached her and knelt, taking her wrist in his hand and uncuffing the wrap after a moment of fiddling. There were bloody prints smeared on the fabric as he set it aside, but he paid it little attention as he assessed her wounds.

Psyche stared at him.

“Do Gods not understand the meaning of _go away_?”

Eros smirked. “We may be omnipotent, but that doesn’t make us geniuses.”

“That makes no sense,” she frowned at him tiredly.

He shook his head and carefully cradles her hands. “Come on,” he ordered softly. “We need to clean these.”

“I can do it.” She tried to take her hands back, but he held firm.

“Psyche,” his eyes flashed with authority. “For once, stopped fighting and just let me help you.” He shook his head. “There’s no ulterior motive.” Pointedly, he held up her hands and she looked away in shame. “Let me clean these so they won’t hurt you anymore.”

“I kind of like the fact that they hurt,” she muttered under her breath as he lifted her to her feet.

He glanced down at her in surprise. “You enjoy the pain?”

“I didn’t say I enjoyed it,” she snapped as he helped her into the bathroom. He turned the faucet on and gently dipped one hand beneath the water, the liquid turning a pale red as it drained. “It’s just a nice reminder, is all.”

“For what?” He asked as he applied a dab of soap and slowly began to clean her wounds. She was actually talking!

“Pain means you can still feel.”

His ministrations halted as his face scrunched at her words. “I don’t understand…”

“I don’t expect you to.”

He continued washing her fingers as he exclaimed, “Typically, pain is used as a reminder that one is still alive. Is that what you meant?”

“No,” she frowned at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes shifting to the top of his head to see he was glancing down at the sink. “Being alive for so long makes you look at life differently—makes you value you it less. I hold other things above living.”

She took him in—not much had changed in his appearance. No longer did he have the divine glow, but then again, he was in his human form. His wings were gone, but he could always call them when he needed. His dark blonde hair was still messy and unruly—the delicious bed head that reminded her of passionate nights where her fingers would pull at the tresses. It was no longer curly like it had once been, almost as if he had grown out of the child-like twirls and instead, his hair looked spikier. It made him appear much more mature, but he even when she had been with him, he had always carried himself with an air of maturity that made her feel small despite the fact that he loved to prank.

His jawline was still strong—he was still very handsome—with eyes so blue it rivaled the morning sky. The edges of his irises were tinted with a hint of violet that gave away the fact that he wasn’t human. They were no longer mischievous and wicked as she had seen days ago when he openly flirted and teased her. Now, he looked tired and concerned, but there was something else she couldn’t quite place.

“You should know,” she continued softly as she watched him clean her fingers with a delicate touch. “You’ve been around much longer than I have.”

Eros grew quiet at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling as her words sunk in. He shook his head. “I have lived a much more different life than you have.”

“You mean a more privileged life?”

He finally glanced up and met her eyes to find she wasn’t accusing him, but more trying to make a point. He blinked. “If you want to look at it that way.”

“I do,” Psyche confirmed. “There’s a vast difference between you Gods and us mortals. We know we’re not perfect, we accept it and try to make the best of the hand we’re dealt, even when it’s the shittiest hand we’re given. But Gods…” she sighed and turned her eyes to the murky red water in the sink. “They can’t see past their own vanity. They need to be worshipped and they love to point out the flaws in others when they should focus on the flaws in themselves. But instead, they worry about who is worshipping who, who is prettier than whom, and whether their punishment was severe enough for something so incredibly petty like refusing a glass of wine in Dionysus's name.” She gave him a sad smile, one filled with pain and experience. “You need us,” she explained. “But we don’t need you and you often forget that.”

Lifting her hands from the sink, he took a towel and dried them off, pressing it to her hand to keep some of the blood droplets from falling to the floor. “I cannot speak for my fellow pantheon, but I will admit we have our own issues we need to work out, just as mortals do.”

Psyche said nothing in return as he began to examine her cuts.

“Why wouldn’t you let Zephyr tend to these?” He finally asked curiously. Part of him was a little thrilled she had sent him away, while the other was conflicted with how he felt. Zephyr knew what to do in these kinds of situations, knew what to say and how to act. Eros felt like he was being thrown in blind.

Was there really any way to prepare for this?

Psyche bit her lip. “He already does so much for me,” she answered with a guilty pitch. “I hate burdening him. It’s been so long since I had a nightmare and the way I cope… I know it isn’t the best way to go about it, but it makes me think better—puts things in more focus for me and reminds me I’m in the present and not the past. He hates it when I do this and I don’t like seeing what this does to him.”

“The dream?” Eros inquired hesitantly, avoiding the fact that he could tell she cared deeply for her guardian. “It was about something that happened in your past?”

She nodded. “Before Zephyr found me.” Raising her eyes to his, she gave him a look and he offered her a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, Psyche. I won’t ask.”

Her brow scrunched together tightly and she looked pained, but the words she spoke were of genuine gratitude. “Thank you.”

 

*     *     *

 

Psyche sat on her balcony with a thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her left hand was bandaged up and aching dully, but she couldn’t remove the feeling of Eros’s touch as he fixed her.

She sighed.

She felt tired and drained, having spent all day at the studio viciously playing her violin until it became too much, but the thought of going to bed seemed repulsive. It was only a matter of time before exhaustion won out, but Psyche was determined to keep up the battle.

So, she sat on her balcony watching the stars twinkle and the clouds roll in until the moon was partially covered. There was a slight chill in the air and she clutched the blanket tighter to her, her eyes growing heavier as she shivered.

The door beside her patio sofa slid open and Zephyr poked his head out. “Are you going to sleep out here?”

She tsked. “Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m doing.”

His mouth pursed and he stepped out and sat next to her. “Okay,” he huffed. “Maybe I should ask, are you planning to sleep at all?”

“It’s bound to happen whether I like it or not.”

“Psyche,” he scolded. “You can’t keep avoiding this.”

She cocked a brow at him. “What are you talking about?”

He rolled his eyes. “Today for instance! You disappeared again, but this time, Eros was around! You can’t keep this up anymore. He was worried, I was worried—he kept asking questions I couldn’t answer.” He groaned. “What am I allowed to say to him?”

“Nothing,” Psyche grumbled. “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing! I told him it wasn’t my story to tell. But I have to be honest with you, Psyche, this is starting to make my head hurt.”

Biting her bottom lip, Psyche glanced down at her lap. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you, but I just don’t think I can do it yet.”

Zephyr swayed side to side, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands rubbing together as he lost himself in thought. “You said you wanted to test him…”

Curiously, she cocked a brow and nodded. “Yes?”

“You and I both know what Olympus is really like,” he explained. “But Eros has spent so much time up there that he really has no clue. Today was kind of an eye opener for him, but I think he needs a rude awakening… What if we take him to the immortal colony?”

Her eyes bugged. “And put everyone in danger?”

“He wouldn’t go blabbing!” Zephyr defended. “As much as I hate how devoted he was to Aphrodite, Eros is very loyal to his friends—especially his _wife_.” He glared at her pointedly. “He can keep a secret.”

Looking extremely concerned, Psyche whined and leaned her head back against the glass behind her. “That’s a lot of faith you’re putting into one God.”

“You’re not giving him enough,” he countered successfully. She glared at him. “You need to put your prejudice aside for once and really think what this can do for the immortals—for _you_! If he see’s exactly the kind of damage the Gods have done, he can help change it, maybe even give them their life back.”

It sounded way too good to be true, but she couldn’t deny that she hadn’t entertained the idea once before.

“I’ll have to think about it. I don’t know if I trust him enough yet with an entire society. What if Aphrodite finds out? You know she’d do anything to make my life miserable.”

“You know that’s not possible,” Zephyr stated. “That place is so heavily warded not even Zeus can see it.”

“How do you think the others would react?”

“They have no room to complain. They gave you oaths just like I did, you can trust them too.” He stood and offered her his hand when he realized she was no longer putting up an argument. She stared at it and finally placed her uninjured hand in his before being pulled to her feet.

“I’ll think about it,” she promised as he led her inside for the night, neither realizing that soon, the decision would be made for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What "others" could Psyche be referring too? Take a wild guess XD 
> 
> Also, don't get used to these long chapters. I'm trying my best to stick to a schedule, but it's so extremely hard when my actual paying job involves a lot of writing, so... Quality over quanity, folks ;)
> 
> Stay tuned for a bumpy ride, teehee.


	9. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche needs to have her violin repaired, Eros needs a new wardrobe. What could possibly go wrong with a little shopping?

# Chapter Seven

* * *

 

Psyche bit her lip—her nerves were getting the best of her. Her hand was still bandage and sore, but her fingers itched to play. It was hard for her to express her feelings vocally, easier to do so via her music, but ever since she had abused her violin for a day she had discovered the strings were damaged, along with her bow.

They needed repaired, but escaping the penthouse was easier said than done.

Zephyr and Eros hovered around her like mother hens, the duo constantly fussing and worrying over her state of mind and well-being despite her protests and reassurance that she was fine. It was more than likely a white lie—she knew she wasn’t completely okay, but having two Gods shadow her every move was wearing on her nerves.

She was irritated and needed to leave, but doing so without an escort didn’t seem likely.

So, Psyche had paced and chewed on her nail as she eyed Eros. It was risky to take him out with her when he hadn’t been a part of the mortal world in so long, but keeping him holed within her apartment wasn’t going to cut it either.

Everyone needed a change of scenery, Eros needed his own wardrobe, and Psyche needed her violin repaired.

It was a perfect excuse, really.

All it took was a few logical words before Eros gave in—albeit a tad reluctantly. At first, he had suggested they wait for Zephyr who had disappeared again back to Olympus, but Psyche put her foot down and replied that she was going with or without him. She was only being considerate in informing him of her plans, but she was adamant—she _did not_ need an escort.

Eros sighed at this and caved.

Which led to where they were now—the mall.

The God of Love eyed the crowd suspiciously, as if any one of them was a danger to her and she nudged him in the ribs.

“Loosen up,” she instructed as they walked along. “You look ready to shoot anyone down if they so much as look our way.”

“Sorry,” he muttered half-heartedly. “They’re so many people…”

Psyche chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a mall—a popular hangout for preteens and the prime location for holiday shoppers. It’s always packed.” She shrugged. “Just think of it as an indoor marketplace, only modernized.”

She saw him tilt his head back as he observed the multi-level complex before tossing her a cocked brow that made her stomach twist pleasantly. “It’s strange for a marketplace.”

“It’s not even the holiday season, so just wait,” she told him as she guided him down the crowded corridors. The way she said that suggested she anticipated—and even possibly hoped—he’d be around longer to experience the madness that was Christmas. She scolded herself silently for her nonsense. “While we’re here, we should get you some clothes,” Psyche pointed out. “I’m sure it’s getting annoying having to constantly borrow Zephyr’s stuff.”

He nodded as he followed her, his eyes shifting between various people they passed and she could see both curiosity and wariness in their depths. She shook her head. Always weighing on the side of caution.

She led him to the repair shop where she placed her case on the counter. One of the clerks appeared as she opened it and after a few minutes of talking, and some light scolding by the clerk on how to properly handle her instrument—which she bit her tongue at—she left her violin behind to be repaired. Her hands felt empty as they ventured back out into the crowd.

“Why do you do that?” She heard her former husband question beside her.

Psyche frowned over at him. “Do what?”

“Zephyr told me that after a particularly bad night, you spend all day playing your violin until your fingers are bloody and sore.” His gaze hardened on her. “Why?”

She sighed and glanced down at her bandaged fingers. “Like I told you before, it’s a coping mechanism.”

“There are other ways to cope, though,” Eros informed her gently.

“I know, believe me.” She rolled her eyes. “But it’s a little hard for someone like me to go to therapy—my situation is pretty unique.” She shrugged. “Also, it’s too dangerous.”

“Dangerous how?” His face scrunched up in confusion.

She paused, her mouth having fallen open and ready to tell him about how his mother was still searching for her and that the only reason she was still here was because Zephyr was able to cloak her from Aphrodite’s rage. Eros didn’t know about his mother and she had no intention of telling him any time soon. She wasn’t ready for that conversation yet.

“Tell a mortal that I’m over two thousand years old and that Gods exist—and that I was once married to one?” Psyche chuckled. “I’d be committed in a heartbeat.”

“Committed?”

Right, he had no idea what she was talking about. “Thrown in a shelter for people believed to be…not mentally sound.”

“They’d think you’re crazy even though you’re telling the truth,” He confirmed.

She nodded. “Things have changed. It’s not like how it used to be where we knew Gods existed and sometimes even interacted with them. Now, they—you—have become a myth,” Psyche explained. “There are people who don’t believe in Gods, or God since Christianity took over.”

“That doesn’t make sense to me,” Eros said with a pained expression.

“They have their reasons.” She led him toward the second level of the mall, choosing instead to take the escalator, curious to see how he’d handle it.

He paused, watching the moving stairs hypnotically with wide eyes and he blinked. “How do they move?”

“I don’t know,” she answered with a frown. “Gears, I think.” She took a step towards it, but he grasped her elbow and pulled her back to him. Glancing up, she saw a fierce protectiveness and she chuckled. “It’s not going to hurt you, Eros.”

“I’m not worried about me.” He stared at the escalator distrustfully, moving aside as people climbed onto the steps without thought.

She gave him a small smile. “It won’t hurt me, either.” She gestured to the steps behind her. “All you have to do is step on them and they do all the work until you get to the top where you step off.”

More people had climbed on at this point and Eros watched them studiously as they rose to the second level before climbing off as if nothing happened. His fascination was adorable.

“Come on,” she beckoned, grabbing his hand and tugging gently.

He hesitated for a moment before allowing her to guide him and Psyche stepped on, the escalator carrying her up and away from him. She couldn’t see how he reacted as she drifted away, but he was quick to step after her, his body several steps below her. She climbed down the stairs till she was one level above him and she smiled.

“See? Not so bad!” She encouraged.

Eros grinned. “Things certainly have changed.”

“Mankind’s getting lazier,” she teased. “Technology is a wonderful and scary thing. They’ve been teasing us with inventing flying cars since the 1950s, but that’s never going to happen.”

They rode to the top where Psyche made sure he stepped off safely and he flashed her a smug grin when he didn’t falter or hesitate. She rolled her eyes at him. “Come on, let’s get you a wardrobe before Zephyr has a conniption that we’re not home.”

“I still think we should’ve waited for him,” Eros commented offhandedly.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Psyche growled, turning fast on her heel to face him, her good mood vanishing quickly. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I’ve told him—I am not fragile and I’m through being treated like a princess. This isn’t the dark ages anymore where women are oppressed and forced to bow and obey without question, and I am not your wife anymore,” she informed him heatedly. He opened his mouth to say something, but Psyche held up her hand. “If I say I want to do something, I’m not asking for permission. _I’m going to do it!_ So either you can be on board with it or you can leave!”

Silence stretched between them. Eros gazed at her appraisingly while Psyche glared expectantly, her arms now folded in front of her. Once upon a time, she had done everything he had told her to do without asking why—it was how she had been raised to act, but now things were different. If Eros had returned for a submissive wife, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

And if he left for that reason, so was she.

Since he had arrived she never spent much time thinking about what would happen if he suddenly left and now that she was facing the very possibility that she may have run him off with her assertiveness, she felt sick. For over two thousand years she wanted nothing more than to see Eros again and now that he was here, she didn’t know how to handle it, instead choosing to either fight with him or avoid him.

It was hard not to show it on her face. Psyche didn’t want him to know how much he affected her still and in her mind, it was better that way just in case he did leave.

But when he cracked a smile and shrugged a shoulder, she was baffled.

“Okay,” he said simply.

Psyche stared at him in disbelief. “Okay?” she repeated. “That’s it?”

He nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Yes. Did you think I wouldn’t be okay with it?” At her shocked expression, he chuckled lightly. “Psyche, I never asked you to do anything I didn’t think you wanted to, and everything I did was for your safety. I loved you—I still do,” he declared with a gentle expression. “Women may not have had the same liberties they do now, but that didn’t mean you weren’t free when you were with me.” He shook his head. “Olympus is practically ruled by the Goddesses—Zeus is merely a figurehead. I am used to strong, independent women, and you have always been strong and independent, even if you didn’t know it.”

Psyche was quiet for a moment, his speech catching her off guard. There were many times she didn’t feel strong and she didn’t want to think about how she felt about her independence, but to hear those beautiful words from him was kind of uplifting.

“Okay, then,” she responded stupidly. “As long as we’re on the same page.”

Eros tilted his head and then waved his hand forward. “Shall we, milady?”

She went to walk, but stopped and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t. No one in this day and age uses that unless they’re being condescending.”

He grumbled at her playfully. “So many rules. You know how I feel about those.”

Psyche glowered at him and they ventured on side by side. “And don’t be flirtatious.”

Eros laughed mischievously. “No promises there.”

 

*     *     *

 

The clothing store they found themselves in was mostly empty save for a few stragglers. Psyche guided Eros through the racks, not used to having to shop for anyone other than herself. Zephyr had a particular style and taste, and the last time she had tried to buy him something, it didn’t go well.

Shopping for Eros was a new adventure and it almost felt intimate as she pulled stuff off some hangers for his opinion. She tried not to let it get to her head as she handed him things he liked while putting back things he didn’t care for. As she did this, she saw a woman do something similar while the man pressed a kiss of gratitude to her temple, and Psyche blushed.

This _was_ intimate.

Girlfriends and wives shopped for men, and Eros had once been her husband who was still in love with her—and unbeknownst to him, she was still in love with him. She always had been, but was it enough?

That was hard to say.

Too much had happened between them that it was entirely possible their relationship was over for good. Psyche wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she also wasn’t sure about jumping into another tryst with him. The last one, although passionate and beautiful, had crashed and burned, and left a series of scars that she would forever carry with her.

“What about this one?” Psyche asked, holding up a button-down that was light blue with white stripes.

“Sure,” he nodded, holding out his already filled arm for it.

“Okay, why don’t you go try some of these on and I’ll wait here,” she gestured to the fitting room in the back.

As he left, Psyche’s eyes trailed back to the couple across the way and she felt a longing bubble in her stomach and ache in her chest. They looked happy and carefree, and Psyche could just tell as the woman looked up into the man’s eyes that they had found true love. She wasn’t sure how she knew or why she knew, but she just did.

They radiated an untouchable happiness that nothing could sully and it made her feel warm just witnessing.

Is that how she had been when she was with Eros?

She could only guess.

The couple moved towards the back where the fitting rooms were and soon, they were out of sight. Psyche sighed and roamed the racks leisurely, keeping her eye out for anything else Eros might like while trying to push back the unwanted feelings of desire and need to the furthest part of her.

It had been a long time since she felt the touch of a man—even longer since she felt one she wanted willingly, and although it didn’t bother her much that she wasn’t being satisfied in the bedroom, with Eros back it was now at the forefront of her mind.

It didn’t help that he oozed sex—the way he walked, talked, and simply acted was dripping in sexual charisma. It was hard not to think about having a quick tumble beneath the sheets just to satisfy carnal needs. But she knew it would only feel good for a minute before she felt hollow again, and Eros would want more from it.

She wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that to him.

“Excuse me, do you work here?”

Psyche blinked and pivoted to find someone standing behind her. The man wasn’t much taller than she was, even with boots on. He had a narrow face, chiseled jaw, and he was wearing an army jacket with a gray shirt beneath and dark washed jeans. His hair, what was left of it, had been buzzed, so it was hard to make out if he was brunette or blonde.

He flashed her an embarrassed smile when he didn’t see a nametag.

“Oh, sorry!”

“No, it’s okay!” Psyche chuckled. “It’s kind of hard to tell who works here when they wear their street clothes as their uniform.”

“Yeah, it’s a little weird,” he responded with a small grin. He stared at her for another moment and Psyche fidgeted in place uncomfortably before he shook his head sheepishly. “Sorry. You must get this a lot, but you’re really beautiful.”

She wanted to roll her eyes, but that also didn’t stop the blush that warmed her cheeks. “Thanks. If I said I get that a lot, does that make me sound conceited?” she asked.

“Is it true?”

Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Maybe?”

“Then no,” he shook his head, laughing. “It’s okay to know you’re beautiful, you just have to know how to use it to your advantage.”

“Interesting,” Psyche replied thoughtfully. “I never thought of it that way.” _Liar_ , she thought to herself. She had thought of it, had even done so. So, why was she giving this guy the time of day?

Oh right. She was lonely and confused.

Stupid combination to be in.

Her eyes glanced around the shop for an employee as she asked, “Did you need me to help you flag someone down?”

“Nah,” he waved her off with a charming grin. “I don’t want to put you out. I’m sure you have other things to do.”

Psyche looked over her shoulder, curious if Eros had emerged from the fitting rooms, but he was nowhere to be found. Turning back to face the stranger, she shrugged. “My friend isn’t done yet, so I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” he said gratefully. “I’m Mitch.” He held his hand out to her.

She stared at it for a moment and reluctantly shook it. “Psyche.”

“Psyche?” Mitch asked with a funny look. “Like Freud?”

She wanted to grumble at his question, but politely she corrected, “No. In Grecian it means _soul_.”

“You’re Greek?”

“As Greek as you can get.” Psyche brushed a lock of her dark hair away from her face.

Mitch opened his mouth to say something, but a voice behind her cut him off.

“Psyche?”

Turning she found Eros standing a few feet away from her, eyeing them both suspiciously, more like glaring at Mitch. Now that she noticed, he was standing pretty close to her and Psyche felt the need to back up a step or two, and once she did, she felt it easier to breathe.

She gave Eros a smile. “Hey, do those fit?” She gestured to the clothes he held in his one arm, but he wasn’t looking at her.

He nodded as he approached them, his eyes not leaving Mitch. “Yes,” he said.

The two men stared at one another, her new friend more welcoming and wary than the other. It was hard to get a read on Eros, but he turned away to face Psyche. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, um…” She turned back to Mitch. “Did you still need help, because I honestly don’t mind?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Maybe I’ll see you around.” He nodded to Eros politely who watched passively as he left.

Psyche rolled her eyes and grabbed her former husband by the arm before pulling him along. “You didn’t have to be rude, you know.”

“I wasn’t rude,” he defended.

“You stared at him like he was a speck, Eros,” she scolded.

“He wanted you.”

Psyche laughed as the approached the counter. “He just needed help.”

Eros unloaded the clothing on top of the counter and they waited for the clerk to finish filling a rack behind them. “He _wanted_ you, Psyche—help or no help, there was no disguising his desire to have you in his bed.”

 _At least he didn’t act on it_ , she thought silently. “He was nice. He mistook me for a worker. There was no need for the way you treated him.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Is this you jealous?”

He scoffed. “It doesn’t make me less of a man if I admit it.”

“He was polite,” she informed him. “He called me beautiful and he didn’t even ask me for my number.”

“You’re number?” Eros scrunched his face up in confusion.

“Another modern invention—the telephone. It’s how mortals communicate.” She pulled out her mobile and showed it to him. “If he _wanted me_ —as you say—then he would’ve asked me out right then and there. But he didn’t.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Or he’s old fashioned,” she reasoned while wondering why she was even discussing this with him.

“He called you beautiful?”

Eros looked curious more than anything, but it was hard to get a read on him. He didn’t outright answer whether he was jealous or not, just stating that it didn’t make him any less manly if he actually did admit it. But did that mean he was?

“Yes,” Psyche confirmed as she arranged his clothes on the counter, the clerk finally having arrived to ring them out. She gave the girl a polite smile, but it vanished as soon as the clerk got a good eyeful of the man next to her. The girl’s mouth went slack-jawed for a second before she cleared her throat quickly and began to scan the tags, her fingers shaking and her skin now flushed.

Obviously, Psyche wasn’t the only one being noticed.

“Don’t tell me you’re angry by that,” she poked as she waited patiently for the clerk to finish. “Because if you are, then I’d hate to tell you how the last few thousand years went.” It was meant as a joke, but Psyche knew that when the time came to tell him, it wouldn’t be a light conversation.

She dreaded the day it happened.

“I’m not.”

She frowned in confusion as she paid for his clothes. “Then why’d you ask?”

Chancing a glance up at him, he looked between amused and irritated as he answered, “Proving a point.”

“Psyche?” A male voice called her. Turning, she found Mitch standing beside her with a small, shy grin. He held his hand out and in between his thumb and index finger was a folded piece of paper. “Here.”

Taking it and unfolding it, she revealed what she had been defending he wouldn’t do—a phone number jotted down in neat handwriting with his name beneath it. She stared at it in astonishment and could feel Eros’ burning gaze in the back of her head.

“Um…” she stuttered.

Mitch chuckled. “Just in case you wanna get coffee or something,” he offered.

She didn’t know what to say as he gave her another smile and wink before he left, ignoring the obvious elephant in the room that currently stood inches behind her. The paper felt heavy in her hand as she slowly turned back around to find the clerk watching in amusement and Eros looking on almost dispassionately, but she knew it was a façade.

He cocked a brow. “See?”

She glowered at him and grabbed a couple of the bags from the counter. “Shut up!” she growled before stomping off, pocketing the number quickly as she stormed away.

She could hear him laughing behind her as he followed, but she wasn’t sure why. All she wanted to do now was go home.

Going out was a bad idea.

 

*     *     *

 

Neither said another word on the way home and thankfully Zephyr wasn’t there upon their return. Psyche helped to carry in Eros’s bags but as soon as she deposited them on his bed, she left him to situate himself. As soon as she was alone, she pulled the number from her pocket and stared at it, her body leading her to her room.

She bit her nail as she read the numbers over and over, memorizing each digit until it was seared in her brain. It wasn’t like she wanted to call him, but more like what the numbers represented. Eros had acted somewhat sore when it came to her conversation with Mitch, so she wasn’t entirely sure why she was holding onto the note. Perhaps she was somewhat pleased by the fact he was a bit jealous—and perhaps this was one of his own punishments.

It was wrong, she knew, but it felt good seeing Eros squirm at the thought that she might shack up with someone else, even if that wasn’t her intention. She felt a smirk worm its way onto her face and she pulled her phone out before saving the number in her contacts. Then she pressed the note to her corkboard beside her vanity.

“You’re keeping it?”

Eros was standing in the hall looking in her bedroom, watching as she pinned the note to her board. She shrugged and nodded. “Why not?”

He looked conflicted, like he wanted to disagree with her, but at the same time didn’t want to discourage her. “Just be careful,” he finally said. It sounded sincere, but she knew it wasn’t what he wanted to say.

She felt a little disappointed.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to call him or not,” she told him as she stepped back from the board. “It’s just been ages since I’ve had a date, so getting a number is kind of a mood-booster.”

“You’ve seen other people?” Eros asked, but it wasn’t accusing—more curious how her life had been away from him.

Should she feel bad? Should she lie?

No point now. “I tried. It didn’t work out.” She sat on the bed, her mind replaying the few times she attempted to move on and date, thinking she’d never see Eros again. Each time ended in disaster with the men trying to take her home and when Psyche caught on, she would freeze up and leave. She peeked over at him. “Did you?”

Eros leaned against the frame of her door and crossed his arms. “No,” he said. “I wanted no one but you.”

There it was—her old friend guilt.

He must’ve saw it on her face because he gave her a reassuring smile, small, soft, and gentle. “Psyche, you have nothing to be ashamed for.”

She scoffed and turned her head away. “Maybe I’d feel better knowing you had tried as well.” Maybe, she thought, but not likely.

“Would you?” She heard him question her skeptically.

Psyche rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. “No,” she groaned, irked. She turned and saw him smirking smugly. She narrowed her eyes at him. “That doesn’t mean anything!”

He shrugged a shoulder. “If you say so.” He turned his attention to the note on the board pointedly. “Although I’m an excellent judge of things—”

“And it still doesn’t mean anything,” she interrupted with a firm tone.

Eros stepped into her room, approaching her slowly. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“You’re guess with Mitch was just luck and nothing else!”

His brow furrowed playful and his lips puckered. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

She threw the same look back at him mockingly. “Even the God of Love can have lucky guesses, it doesn’t make you right.”

He nodded, as if in agreement, but then he said, “So, if I was to say you were keeping that note to make me jealous, I would be…?”

Psyche bristled and her face flushed red at his correct observation. “W-well, you would obviously be wrong,” she stammered as she tried to play it off. “I’m keeping it because it makes me feel nice!”

“Right,” Eros chuckled. He was now standing in front of her, his close proximity almost overwhelming. She could smell his spicy scent drifting off him—cinnamon, oranges, and something else she couldn’t quite place but was equally pleasing to her senses. She blinked and tried to breathe through her mouth so it wouldn’t affect her as much, but Eros was perceptive. His fingers lifted to touch the tip of her chin delicately, tilting her head to look up at him. “I can make you feel nice,” he murmured huskily. “You don’t need a note for that. But if you want one, I’d be happy to write you one.”

She shivered at the light touch and her eyelids grew heavy, lust blooming within her. Maybe just this once it wouldn’t hurt to allow her desires to rule her. Did it have to mean anything between them? Certainly not. She wasn’t ready for a relationship with him, but it had been so long since she felt loved and cherished and she knew Eros would make her feel that way.

Psyche leaned into his touch, his thumb brushing her bottom lip, his eyes searching hers. He had been leaning in, but at some point, he stopped and she frowned. Instead of feeling rejected, she scooted to the edge of the bed and leaned up closer, her lips near his, almost touching—yearning for him, but even with the small distance it felt gaping.

Eros was not moving and before Psyche could close the space separating them, Zephyr’s sudden appearance made them jump away from one another.

The God of the West Wind was heaving, looking disheveled and mildly panicked. His eyes flashed, noting their close proximity, but he chose to ignore it as he stated quickly, “We have a problem!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typically, I don't like airing my private life out in the open, but I feel an explanation is owed for the lack of updates. 
> 
> In late June, my sister-in-law was involved in a head-on collision with an 18-wheeler and she is in a coma. My fiance and I had to fly to Texas in an emergency to take care of her affairs because we weren't sure whether she wasn't going to make it. I had to take a lot of time off work, as did my fiance, and we are both very devastated. It's been almost a month since the accident and she still hasn't woken up. Combined that with the very real possibility that we may have to take temporary custody of her son is jarring. So, I have a lot going in with my life...that and then some.
> 
> So, please bear with me when it comes to updating this story, it'll happen when I have a moment free to myself. I'm basically using this to relieve stress.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter is basically a filler chapter--I'm not overly pleased with it, but I hope you liked it! It's not my favorite chapter, but filler chapters happen to be the butt of stories, lol. Next chapter is slowly in the works and will be updated when it's done. <3


	10. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The decision Psyche has been hoping to avoid comes much sooner than expected and trouble comes knocking at her door once more.

# Chapter Eight

* * *

 

“Zephyr, what’s going on?” Psyche asked as she chased her protector down the hall. Eros was close beside her with equal befuddlement. It was only moments ago the God of the West Wind appeared in her bedroom door looking like he had rushed back in a panic, stating that not only did they have a problem, but that it was time to leave. “Why do we have to go?”

“She knows,” he announced loudly as he opened his closet door. “Just like before, only grab your essentials! We’re leaving now!”

Psyche’s eyes widened in fear and she felt her heart skip a beat. “How? I thought we were cloaked!”

“What’s going on?” Eros demanded, his voice cutting through. “Who knows what?”

Both paused to glance at him before sharing a look with each other—silently communicating whether to share what was going on. It was clear in Psyche’s eyes that she did not want him to know, but Zephyr felt differently. She shook her head at him, telling him not to say a word.

“There’s no time to explain right now,” the God exclaimed as he threw some things into an old bag with a drawstring. “Psyche, go get your stuff, now!”

“Where are we going to go?” Her body had begun to shake from the fear that was now welling up inside her.

“You know where,” he responded before tossing her a glare that told her to get moving.

She huffed and stormed out, her feet carrying her back to her room quickly as she tore it apart for the things she would need. Her body twisted as she searched for her violin before memory returned to remind her that she had left it at the mall to be repaired. Sadness surged at the thought of leaving it behind and tears lined her eyes enough to blur her vision, but not enough to fall.

“Psyche?” she heard Eros call her from behind. “Who’s after you?”

She sniffled as she shoved a few things into the pack she used to move—it was small, worn, and old with a similar drawstring that tied the bag together. Her hands trembled as she attempted to tie a knot and soon, Eros’s hands brushed hers aside to help her.

Wiping at her eyes, Psyche said, “I don’t have time—”

“Psyche!” he stated firmly, his eyes burning with anger. “What’s going on? You’re shaking! You’re scared! Who are you running from?”

She stared at him, the tears finally falling down her cheeks. There was an intense battle waging inside her and as much as Psyche wanted to hold off telling him, she knew her time was up.

Just as she opened her mouth to lay it all out, the sound of breaking glass made both of their heads snap in the direction the sound came.

“Shit!” she heard Zephyr exclaim in the distance. There was some muffled thudding that sounded like a struggle was taking place and then not seconds later, more glass shattering could be heard throughout the penthouse. Before Eros could leave to see what was going on, the bedroom window broke, forcing both the God and the forgotten princess to fall to their fronts as shards rained down on them.

Above them, a large creature swooped in, its body lean, skinny, and not at all beautiful with webbed wings protruding from its back. It screeched at them with its arms stretched out and its nails curled into claws. It had the body of a decrepit woman—frail, slender, and almost completely skin and bones with straw-like hair and not a shred of clothing in sight.

It wasn’t hard to place them and Psyche heard Eros mutter in disbelief, “My mother’s harpies?”

“Psyche!” Her name was bellowed throughout the penthouse. It was quickly followed by a deafening shriek like that of falcon call, but it bellowed so loudly that the girl had to clasp her hands over her ears as she cringed. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the harpy above her find her in its sights and, after a dangerous recognition sparked in its eyes, it leapt for her, but before she expected the impact, there was a grunt as two bodies collided.

Climbing shakily to her knees, Psyche was met with the sight of Eros struggling with the creature, his strong arms wrapped tightly about the thin waist while the things arms were extended in her direction. She saw how it avoided harming the God and knew it recognized its mistress’s offspring, but that mattered little to it as it fought to free itself from his hold to grab for her.

For something so weak looking, it was incredibly strong as it pulled at Eros, forcing his body to lose his balance and nearly let go, but he held as steadfast as possible. Yet, Psyche could see the creature was growing frustrated as a craze filled its eyes and in a matter of a second, the thing turned on the God and attacked ferociously.

She saw no blood, but the arms moved quickly and Eros’s body slammed into the wall as he fought to hold it while attempting to restrain it at the same time. Psyche turned away to find something, _anything_ , as her hands tipped things over and scoured the room.

“Ah!” She heard and turning, she found Eros being thrown, his body disappearing out the window and Psyche gasped.

“Eros!” she screamed, but before she could act the harpy turned on her with a deadly smirk.

Now armed with only the plunger from her bathroom, Psyche readied herself as her hand fisted the wooden handle tight. Her heart was beating fast and she was scared, but there was no way she was willing to be taken without a fight.

The harpy leapt and Psyche swung with a grunt, hitting the creature in the head dead on. It crashed into the wall beside her bed, knocking over the lamp on her bedside table, but it recovered quickly. Its claws dug into the wood of her nightstand and it screamed something unintelligible at her before lunging again.

As it did so, the window behind it blew out and Eros swooped in, wings abound and body glowing. In his hand was his bow and on his back was his quill. Already, he had two iron arrows notched together as he perched on the broken sill and without hesitation he shot them both simultaneously.

The harpy cried out as the arrows struck it in the back and its body fell to the ground at Psyche’s feet. The creature’s claws grasped the girl around her ankle before its body disappeared in a cloud of golden fog, a trait immortals possessed. It wasn’t true death for the divine couldn’t die, but as they’re corporeal forms failed them, they’re divine souls were returned to Olympus to heal.

Psyche was breathing heavily and she didn’t even realize how badly she was shaking until Eros took the plunger from her, snapping her from her thoughts. She jumped and stared at him wide-eyed in all his Godly glory, his wings extended behind him, and there wasn’t a single scratch on him.

The plunger dropped to the floor and hands cradled her to him, but she winced as his fingers found the little marks and scraps from the broken glass that rained down on them earlier. Whereas he was neat and pristine, her arms had smeared spots of blood.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he cupped her face.

She shook her head. “Ask me again later…”

Eros frowned and he looked like he wanted to say more, but another loud crash broke them from their moment and immediately the God began rushing in that direction. He called over his shoulder, “Wait here!” as he disappeared down the hall.

Psyche stood there, battered and panting. Her eyes took in the carnage that was now her room and she felt anger. Anger for the life she had worked so hard to rebuild for herself only to have it destroyed in seconds, anger for a grudge that couldn’t be let go, and anger for the sheer fact that she had the right to be angry. Her hands shook and her eyes misted with unshed tears, but they refused to spill because she wouldn’t let them.

She was done playing games.

Taking up the plunger and her bag, Psyche left her room behind and headed after Eros. She dropped her pack when she saw the state the rest of her penthouse was in. Furniture was upturned, windows were broken, her entertainment system was a crumbled mess, and everything she held dear— no matter the material— was in shambles. Even her beloved piano in the corner of the living room was on its side, some of the legs broken off, and several strings snapped.

And in the middle of it all was Zephyr, Eros, and a swarm of harpies.

It had been a long time since Psyche had seen Zephyr golden, glowing, and powerful—even longer since she saw more than one God battling side by side. While Eros was shooting down harpies, Zephyr was manipulating the air, creating cyclones and forcing the creatures earthbound.

Even this scene made her angry.

She dropped her pack, gripped the plunger till her knuckles were white, and when one harpy bee-lined for her, she took up the stick like a bat and swung. Psyche could never say she had a knack for hand-eye coordination and she was not one to fight, but she was sick of being weak, she was tired of running, and she hated seeing her life be destroyed over one mistake she had made so long ago.

The harpy dove out of the way, but in doing so mistook the height of her ceiling and smashed its head. It growled in anger and dove for the princess once more, this time ducking underneath the swing of the plunger and aiming for her feet. Psyche cried out as her back met her floor _hard_ , knocking the wind out of her.

In a split second, she rolled out of the way as claws dug at her, narrowly missing her and digging deep into the boards of her floor. As she rolled, her only weapon was knocked away from her and her ankle was seized so harshly, the nails dug deep into her skin and drew blood. She lashed out with her other foot, kicking it square in the face over and over until it finally let go with a loud screech, allowing Psyche time to dive for the plunger.

But it wasn’t enough!

The harpy jumped onto her back, forcing her to slide across the room and into the bar stools of her island counter, the thing viciously clawing at her back and tugging at her hair.

Psyche cried out at the pain and mashed her teeth. Without thinking at all, she cocked her head back, connecting with the bridge of the harpies’ nose. There was a satisfying crack of contact followed by pain for her, but she ignored it as the pressure on her back released her.

She continued to act on instinct as she grabbed the first thing in reach and stood. Turning, she saw the harpy was clawing at its face in worry, its vanity overshadowing its desire to carry out its mistress’s order. Psyche glared at it and called out, “Hey you ugly bitch!”

The harpy screeched as it turned on her, but soon its sight was filled with nothing but a bar stool as Psyche swung. The creature crumbled and before she knew it, she continued to swing over and over, grunting angrily and with satisfaction. She was so lost in the moment she didn’t hear the desperate call of her own name, so when hands found her, she quickly turned in a blind hatred, ready to attack, only to find Eros with Zephyr not far behind him.

They were both staring at her, wary and concerned, and she saw her former husband’s eyes drift behind her to the fading harpy—the body slowly disappearing in a cloud of golden fog. His eyes met hers again, filled with questions once more, but he was wise not to ask them now and Psyche just stared at him with a mixture of anger and exhaustion.

“Psyche…” Zephyr began, his face looking borderline apologetic.

“Don’t!” She interrupted between pants. She threw the bar stool down and it clattered beside her with an obnoxious thud. “I don’t want to hear any of it! Let’s just get our shit and disappear… _again!_ ”

Unlike the pair of Gods, Psyche was a mess of scratches, bruises, and her shirt was now torn from her scuffle with a few deep claw marks that wept. Movement irritated the wounds, but she refused to acknowledge anything besides her anger—anger felt safe right now. Anger felt good.

“Wherever we’re going, we need to move fast. The harpies will return soon!” Eros forewarned.

Psyche said nothing as she gathered her pack, instead choosing to address Zephyr. “How did she find us?” Her tone was flat and easily mistaken for uncaring.

“I don’t know,” was Zephyr’s equally flat response.

“I thought we were cloaked!” She turned to level a hard look at him.

“We _are!”_ he argued.

Confused and irritated, Psyche bellowed, “Then how did she find us, _Zephyrus_?!”

His neutral expression faded at the sound of his full name thrown at him and in its place was an unreadable expression that would have once made her nervous if she hadn’t just been in a fight for her life. Only one time had she ever spoken to him with authority, but this was different.

“I care not for the implications in your tone,” he expressed, his mouth falling into a thin line.

“And I care little for being hunted,” she replied honestly. “How could she find us if we were cloaked?”

It was quick, but Zephyr’s eyes shifted to Eros before returning to Psyche. It could’ve been subconscious, but something told her it wasn’t. Her eyes narrowed when he did it again and shifted his feet, making it seem like he was contemplating something, but she knew he was attempting to communicate silently with her now.

He believed it had something to do with Eros.

“You think it was me, don’t you?” She heard the God in question ask out of the blue. She stiffened and saw Zephyr sigh heavily. “You keep looking over at me. You can just say it.”

But neither addressed him as they stared each other down.

“It’s time, Psyche,” Zephyr stated gravely. “We can’t keep it quiet any longer.”

The girl glowered angrily and scuffed her foot as she fought with herself. She shook her head and said, “Not now. We need to leave.”

 

*     *     *

 

It was strange leaving, but unsettlingly familiar. Psyche felt numb when they left the penthouse behind and although there was a heavy tension between the three of them, everyone had fallen quiet. Zephyr looked somewhere between guilty and angry for what had happened whereas it was hard to get a read on how Eros was feeling. He spoke only when someone asked him something, but other than that, he said nothing and made sure to stick close to Psyche.

There was no hiding now that they were running from Aphrodite. As much as she wanted to come up some excuse that would cover what was going on, it would only insult Eros’ intelligence. How could she cover up the obvious?

Words failed her, but thankfully, he hadn’t demanded an explanation yet.

It wasn’t until about a few hours after Zephyr had teleported them to a vast expanse of land did a conversation get struck up. There was nothing for miles except beautiful mountains, deep forests, expanse lands of hills and valleys, and cascading streams. Everything was rich and lush with life, so completely different from the cityscape Psyche had become accustomed to.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She felt the need to ask, breaking the ice.

“We don’t particularly have a choice,” Zephyr responded glumly.

Psyche frowned as she followed him along towards their destination, her feet starting to cramp. “What if she finds us there?”

“She won’t,” he was adamant as he trudged up a hill smoothly.

She grunted in effort and when she finally reached the top, she paused, panting lightly and announced, “I need a minute!” Her wounds had been unattended and they were quickly growing more painful by the minute.

Zephyr turned to look at her impatiently. “It’s not much further.”

“I know that,” she spat. “But you forget I’m not a God! I don’t have the same stamina you do and we’ve been walking for hours!” She could feel herself on the verge of having a meltdown and it was the feeling of a warm hand on the small of her back that prevented it. At her side was Eros; patient as ever as he led her over to an old, dead trunk. Gratefully, she sat down and sighed.

“A few minutes of rest won’t hurt anyone,” he defended her to Zephyr.

“Why didn’t you teleport us closer like last time?” Psyche moaned as she bent and straightened her one leg over and over, working out a cramp.

“Precautionary measures.”

“You think my mother is tracking us?” Eros asked as he stood beside Psyche.

Looking up, she saw Zephyr was staring off into the distance and knew he didn’t have any intention on answering—instead he was going to force it upon her. Guilt welled up in her and her heart stuttered in a panic rhythm. It was hard to put to words, but she managed, “She’s…um…She’s been tracking us… _me_ …for a long time.”

She didn’t want to look up at him. She didn’t want to see his reaction or his disbelief. She didn’t want to know.

Finally, after several moments of heavy, suffocating silence, he asked, “So when you said someone was hunting you, you meant…”

“Yeah.”

This was almost unbearable and Psyche could practically feel the eyes on her. She didn’t like it one bit. So, she stood, ignoring her feet, legs, and back screaming in protest as she trudged past Zephyr. “Let’s go. I want to get there before it gets dark.”

“And where’s that, exactly?” Eros asked as he followed.

“You’ll find out—” Zephyr had started before Psyche cut him off with, “It’s a Sanctuary of sorts.”

The God of the West Wind threw the girl an odd look, wondering why she was suddenly so accommodating with information.

“A Sanctuary?” The Love God hummed thoughtfully.

“Or refugee camp,” she muttered under her breath, but he heard her anyhow. They both did.

“That’s more appropriate,” Zephyr agreed flatly as they crossed the valley.

“Will the wards hold there?” Psyche knew her friend was close to snapping at her repetitive questioning, but she couldn’t help it. They were responsible for so many lives and she would never be able to live with herself if she led the most jealous and spiteful Goddess to a place meant for safety, neutrality, and peace.

“Yes!” He reassured her firmly. “My wards are strong, but combined with the others and it’s damn near impenetrable! Especially with… you know…”

“Others?” Eros demanded, making sure to step in front of Zephyr, his hand outstretched to stop him in place. “What others? What’s going on?”

The other God sighed heavily, his nostrils flaring. “Can it wait until we get the colony? It’s just beyond this bank!”

“No,” was the response. “It can’t. I’m tired of the run around and being left in the dark! If my mother is involved, I am owed an explanation!”

“You’re _owed_?” Zephyr scoffed as his eyes narrowed dangerously. He took a menacing step closer to his divine companion. “You think _we_ owe _you_? You’re the reason we’re in this shit in the first place!” He bellowed in an uncontrolled outburst.

Psyche, having stepped beside the pair to watch them warily, gasped in shock and stared at her protector wide eyed. “Zephyr!” she scolded, feeling nervous that all of her secrets were about to be laid bare.

“What?!” He snarled as he turned on her. “It’s true, Psyche! Why deny it any longer?! We have harpies on our tails, how the fuck do you think you can explain that?!” He pointed at Eros with a rigid finger. “It’s because this asshole abandoned you and left you in the hands of his deranged mother that we have no fucking choice but to hike miles through the wilderness just to get away from her!” He turned to face the man fully, his tone piercing. “It’s because of you she,” he gestured to Psyche who was on the verge of crying, “has to rebuild her whole life over and over, constantly looking over her shoulder. And you think you’re owed? You’re un-fucking-believable! You are definitely you’re mother’s son.”

Eros went from angry, to shocked, to baffled, back to angry, and then finally to ashamed in a matter of seconds. The feelings were overwhelming and complicated, but everything Zephyr said confirmed so much.

One thing he had never mentioned were the rumors he had heard throughout Olympus. Rumors he knew were just that, but when whispers were being spread about a conflict between his dear wife and his mother, he immediately became suspicious.

Zephyr had turned to keep walking, but Eros lifted his pained gaze to find Psyche was avoiding his eyes.

“My mother punished you, didn’t she?” His voice became hoarse with intense emotions and his mind conjured up horrific scenes of his divine mother inflicting severe and utter misery on the one woman he loved most. Eros saw a flash of pain in her averted eyes and knew. “What did she do?”

Psyche remained silent, her gaze seemingly glued to the windswept grass, but even though she wasn’t looking at him, he could see the affects the punishment had on her, whatever it was.

His fingers lifted to touch her chin and he tilted her head to face him. She had mastered the art of deception, but here Eros could read her well. She looked exhausted and there were no words to describe the incredible sadness he found in her eyes. There was pain too, but she had adapted to it, molded it so that it was a part of her. It was the secretiveness and the loneliness that was slowly killing her.

She leaned into his hand not for the loving touch it provided, but for the solace it offered and she sighed heavily, and Eros couldn’t even imagine how much burden rested on her shoulders. All because of him.

“Psyche, I’m…”

A whistle pierced the air and their heads snapped to attention to find Zephyr not only having descended the hill, but walked across the rest of the valley towards the line of trees. He waved over to them and yelled, “Let’s go! We’re almost there!”

The couple broke apart as the moment between them dissipated. The words Eros wanted to say, he was forced to swallow as he watched her turn silently and begin carefully climbing down the hill. Dejected, he followed after, all the while wondering what to do about his mother.

 

*     *     *

 

It was another half an hour before they reached the immortal colony and Psyche could feel the wounds on her back burn intensely. Soon, the trio found themselves on a dirt path and eventually, the dirt path widened into a dirt road. Zephyr hummed appreciatively and over his shoulder, she saw the structures of the colony come into view and she sighed in relief.

“Thank whatever higher being that still cares!” Psyche exclaimed as she quickened her pace, brushing past her guardian and former husband as she made her way for the colony.

It was like stepping back in time as they approached the large fortress-like structure. From deep in the ground to towering high in the sky, surrounding the inhabitants, were stone walls and columns—a protective barrier—and iron-rod gates at the entrance. Way up high on the stone wall stood several guards on watch and upon seeing their approach, as well as Psyche’s quickened pace, they hailed and called to within the colony for someone.

Slowly, the gates rolled back one by one (since there were five), and as Eros grew closer he saw the markings etched in on the columns and the walls. Wards—Zephyr had mentioned this. But each ward was different; every God had their own.

All but one gate was opened and soon, a broad shouldered man met them just beyond. He nodded at them and as his eyes fell on Psyche, there was both warmth and wariness. In his free hand was a crossbow, but it was pointed down, yet the obvious sight of it was plenty warning.

He sized her up, taking in her wounds and disheveled state, before he assessed both Gods behind her. Psyche and Zephyr knew it was customary to go through security routines, but when the man turned his attention to Eros, his eyes widened and immediately became suspicious.

“You bring the son of Aphrodite to the colony?” The man accused.

Zephyr cocked a tired brow. “If you’d let us in, we’d explain everything.”

“How am I to know it is truly you, _Divine Zephyrus_? Or you _Lady Psyche_?” The guard questioned firmly, his jaw locked and rigid as he glared at the God of Love. “For all we know, you are harpies in disguise and this is a ploy of Aphrodite’s to bring the rage within the safety of our walls! She is known for sending her son to do her dirty work…”

Eros bristled at this.

“If you’d just go through the fucking security measures like you’re supposed to, we wouldn’t be here bickering like idiots!” Zephyr growled.

Psyche, feeling worn out and drained, reached forward and clasped the iron gates. “Theron, you know us! We’ve been walking for hours, we’re tired! Just let us in and we’ll explain everything!”

Theron stood stoically as he stared at Psyche thoughtfully. As if reaching a decision, his gaze returned to the Love God as he declared, “The colony will not want him here. But I’ll open the gates for you two.”

“No!” Psyche bit out. “We’re all coming in!”

“I’m sorry, milady, but I cannot allow…”

“A single wish can change the world,” a voice announced from behind Theron.

Psyche released the bars and her shoulders deflated with relief as she answered, “Be careful what you wish for.” With a rusty click, the final gate jerked and began to glide open slowly.

Theorn pedaled back and lowered his head as the trio entered, but he stiffened when Eros hesitated briefly to cast him a spiteful glare. The two stared each other down for a long moment, but it didn’t take long for the full affect of the God’s heavy gaze to wear on the immortal and soon, he averted his eyes to the ground and waited to hear the sound of feet shuffling against the dirt path.

Eros felt more irritation than he did anger. Yes, he knew he had once been his mother’s whipping boy, but he wasn’t any longer. It angered him that after all this time it was still held against him. But Theorn had crossed a line when refusing Psyche. Even with seeing her bloody wounds and drained expression, the guard seemed to solely focus on him and him only with a strong sense of spite that didn’t really seem to have anything to do with the colony, but was more personal.

The boy didn’t appear to be familiar, but then again, Eros had been sent to punish many mortals, both men and women alike. Perhaps he had been one of them…or an ancestor perhaps?

“I’m so glad to see you!” He heard Psyche declare somewhere ahead. Glancing up, he saw the girl embracing someone, her arms wrapped around a neck and her face buried in a strong, masculine shoulder. She was standing on her tippy-toes, so whoever she was hugging was significantly taller than her and he could just make out dark brown hair beyond hers.

“I’m afraid to touch you,” the mysterious man said, his voice oddly familiar as Eros drew closer. “You’re covered in wounds! What in Zeus’s name happened?!”

The voice had a strong accent that wasn’t faded by the modern era, so whoever this was still resided on Olympus quite a lot. Whoever this was obviously slipped into the role of lies, deceit, and spymaster with ease if he was able to assist in helping to colonize a bunch of punished immortals without hindering suspicion. And whoever this person was had significantly strong wards to hide this large of a place from the rage that followed these people.

There was only one person who came to mind who fell into that role.

And as the man stepped away from Psyche and held her at arm’s distance to observe the state she was in, Eros gapped.

“Hermes?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone for all the kind words, both publicly and privately! Things with my sister-in-law haven't really improved much yet, however there is still hope. Onto other news, I'm supposed to be having surgery in the next 3 weeks, so as I'm bed-ridden, at least I'll have some time to write and thankfully, I've been bitten with the inspiration bug. I have the next 2 chapters already started XD
> 
> P.S. This has not been beta-read - I typically ask my friend to read it over for me to catch my mistakes, but we've both been too busy to even sit down and write together, so I've just been posting them as is. So, WYSIWYG.
> 
> <3 Much love and blessings!


	11. Interlude: The Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psyche discovers there is more to Zephyr's arrival than she was initially told and she isn't entirely sure how she feels about it.
> 
>  
> 
> _This chapter was not beta-read, so all mistakes are owned by me. Apologies, they will eventually be fixed._

* * *

# Interlude: The Companion

* * *

 

_—approximately 2,000  years ago_

“How’ve you come to find me?” Psyche asked from her position by the fire. She stared into the dancing flames, envious of the carefree licks and waves the orange heat provided. “I had thought all the Gods had forsaken me…”

Zephyr sat on the other side of the fire, his head tilted back as he gazed upward, his eyes flittering back and forth as if watching something unseen to her very mortal eyes. He said nothing for a long period of time and for a moment, Psyche was unsure whether he had heard her or not before dismissing the thought entirely. He had heard her just fine—he was simply choosing his words carefully as all Gods did. It was something she had noticed Eros do during their very late night conversations.

“Many of them did,” he said truthfully. “But there are still others who believe in your cause.”

That perked her up and she blinked over at him in confusion. “My cause?”

Zephyr finally turned his heavy gaze onto her. “You are not the only one who thinks the Gods are slowly becoming corrupted.”

“I never said corrupted!” She defended hastily.

His mouth quirked upwards. “You didn’t have to. You’re view of us has become severely twisted over the last few centuries. And as much as it pains me, you are not entirely wrong.”

Psyche clutched the tattered fur closer to her to ward off the chill of the air as she contemplated his words. “Is that why you’re here?” She bit her lip as she watched the log within the pit sizzle and crack from the intense heat. “You told me that you wished to shelter me from Aphrodite’s rage, but I can’t help but wonder if there is more that motivates you.”

“You believe I have a secret agenda?” Zephyr tilted his head to the side at this and blinked down at her. She shrunk within the confines of her blanket as she reminded herself she was speaking to a God.

“Forgive me if I’ve offended you,” Psyche offered. “But yes, that is where my train of thought is heading.”

“Hmm…” The God hummed. “You may be right. Perhaps my motivations aren’t entirely pure.”

That made her pause.

“But fear not, beloved of Eros. My oath was true.”

She let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding in and she heard a soft chuckle across the fire. The next several moments were spent in silence and nothing but the sounds of the nightlife in the dense of the woods could be heard. Above them was a canopy of trees with a small opening that revealed the vastness of the stars and often Psyche saw her Godly companion tilt his head back to stare up at the abyss.

Out of curiosity, she bent her head back and looked up to see what interested him so.

“The days are getting longer and longer,” he mused quietly. “Selene looks perturbed by this.”

Her eyes widened as she searched the night sky for the telltale sign of the moon chariot the goddess rode. She saw nothing. “Can you see her?”

Zephyr hummed in acknowledgement. “Trouble brews on Olympus. Zeus does not realize the impact the ban will have on everyone. Lovers are separated from lovers, friends from friends, families from families.” With a sorrowful tone, he added, “Soon, our worshippers will die off and we will be forgotten. They will think we’ve abandoned them.”

“Haven’t you?” It was thoughtless, her mouth running without a care and as soon as the words fell from her tongue, she cringed inwardly, but forced herself to stay strong.

“You may find it hard to believe but there are still many of us who care.” He spoke admonishingly and firm, as if attempting to quell the burning animosity inside her.

But it wasn’t that easy.

“I do find it hard to believe with what I’ve seen and experienced!” she exclaimed. “Gods are meant to protect their worshippers, but I’ve spent the last three hundred years seeing this is not the case!”

Zephyr shook his head and turned his heated gaze on her, determined to set her straight. “Us Gods are only meant to guide, not interfere—”

“And yet you have!” Psyche was quick with a rebuttal, her voice growing louder and more emotionally unstable as she met his gaze with a hardened one of her own. “That is the very reason why Zeus has forbid you from stepping foot onto the mortal realm, because you Gods just can’t help yourselves but twist things into working out in your favor!” Her lips twisted into a snarl. “And look! You’ve twisted too much, but instead of acknowledging your faults and fixing it, you retreat in hopes it’ll all go away!”

Her chin was wobbling when she was done and she could hear her voice echo back to her from deep in the woods almost mockingly, but Zephyr didn’t seem concerned by the fact that she had practically screamed her outburst at him. Instead, he simply stared at her with wide eyes, awed and taken aback—probably because she was a mortal who had just yelled at a God without fear of consequence.

But then, the corners of his lips turned upwards and he smiled through the pain reflecting in his eyes—a pain that matched hers internally. “You’ve changed,” he pointed out.

She blinked at him in confusion, her chin ceasing it’s trembling as she grasped the distraction of his words. “Pardon me?”

Zephyr chuckled and shrugged. “When I first took you to Eros’s palace, you were meek, timid, willing to do anything to please your mysterious husband all in the name of family, honor, and duty—a _princess_. What happened to her?”

Psyche’s brow furrowed and unconsciously, she tucked the corners of the fur closer to her, covering every inch of exposed skin without realizing it. Unable to meet his eyes, she stated flatly, “She’s dead.”

 

*     *     *

 

It was hard sleeping that night, but Zephyr was insistent. So, after a long battle, Psyche collapsed back against the fur wrapped around her, making sure to stick close enough to the fire for both warmth and safety while at the same time remaining at a safe distance so as not to be caught in the flames. She could feel her eyelids grow heavy, but Morpheus eluded her tonight, which made for a difficult situation. She lay on her side staring at the smoldering embers within the small pit and just beyond it was Zephyr sitting atop a dead tree that had fallen at some point, keeping watch. His left leg was bent while the other hung down, swinging to and fro at a leisured pace, and his back was resting against a large portion of branch.

He looked wide awake and alert, but Psyche knew that even Gods needed sleep—Eros had often slept at her side if only for a few hours. Or perhaps they didn’t and it was only habitual, to give off the impression they were human when they really weren’t? She could only muse to herself.

As she lay there, her thoughts turned more and more. Zephyr had admitted that his motivations weren’t as pure as he had led her to believe. So what did that mean for her? She could only guess it had something to do with the ban Zeus had installed, but it was hard to tell. Staring at him for a long moment, she decided it didn’t hurt to ask.

_“Divine Zephyrus?”_

His head turned to acknowledge that he heard her, but he looked put off as he said, “Please, just call me Zephyr.”

“Zephyr…What _are_ your motivations for being here, exactly? If it’s not to just help me which I find hard to believe anyways…”

He scoffed. “You have such a brutal mind filled with so much negativity that fights you every minute of every day…”

“There is no greater genius without some touch of madness,” Psyche quoted softly as she adjusted her weight to rest her head on her bent arm.

At that, Zephyr chuckled. “You know your Aristotle?”

“It was considered unbecoming of a lady of my stature to be more educated than my husband, but my father was unorthodox in his upbringing and had me tutored since I learned to walk.” Her eyes grew distant. “Aristotle had always fascinated me.”

He nodded. “Did you know that he believed there was no greater bond than that of friendship?” He leaned his head back and recited, “My best friend is the man who in wishing me well wishes it for my sake.” Zephyr rolled his eyes over towards her. “I think that’s rather fitting, don’t you?”

She pondered that for a second. “I thought you said your intentions weren’t pure of nature?”

He sighed. “My intention in helping you is. That doesn’t mean I cannot attempt to…how do you mortals say…” He paused for a moment before snapping his fingers. “Ah, yes! Kill two birds with one stone!” He cringed and the sight was almost funny to see. “What a gruesome phrase…”

“And what would that entail?” She rose to her elbow to peer over at him better. “You alluded to the fact that it has something to do with Zeus.” Zephyr shrugged indifferently and frustration began to creep up Psyche’s spine and nest in her chest. She huffed angrily and laid back on the furs, staring up at the twinkling mess above as she exclaimed, “Fine! If you won’t tell me that, then will you tell me where you plan to take me?”

“We’re leaving Greece,” he told her bluntly.

Her heart stuttered in her chest and she sat up abruptly and stared over at him with wide eyes. “What?”

Zephyr gave her a look of understanding as he repeated, “We have to leave Greece. Aphrodite will stop at nothing to try to find you. I’m sure she’s going mad right now that she can’t see you and she’ll tear apart all of Greece in search of you. We need to go.”

“But…” The idea made complete sense. Greece was the homeland of the Gods, their domain. Yet, just the thought of leaving the land where her husband resided sparked a sense of fear. What if he had begun looking for her? What if, when she left, he couldn’t find her?

What would she do?

Sensing this, Zephyr’s look of understanding shifted to a gentler, reassuring one. “Psyche, I know what you must be thinking,” he began. “But you _cannot_ see Eros. That will only put you in Aphrodite’s path and you will be sent to the deepest pits of Tartarus—or worse! I will not let that happen! Leaving is our only hope of ensuring your safety!”

As he spoke, she never realized she had started crying until she felt the tears drip from her cheeks and fall onto the back of her hands. It was embarrassing to cry openly in front of Zephyr, but she couldn’t help it. Everything was becoming much too real and he was firm in his decision. And despite it all, Psyche agreed with him. It just didn’t make it hurt any less.

Would the pain ever fade?

 

*     *     *

 

Leaving Greece proved to be much more difficult that they initially anticipated. As the days wore on, Zephyr was slowly discovering that cloaking his newfound ward wasn’t as easy and demanded quite a bit of energy. Thankfully, his wards were powerful despite the fact he was considered a _low class_ God.

By day, they traveled on foot with Zephyr disguised as a shepherd and Psyche taking on the roll of his wife. It was awkward when he first suggested it, but practical all the same. It kept wandering eyes away from her and one look at the God beside her had men looking the other way. She wasn’t sure if they could sense his otherworldly nature, but his stature and the way he carried himself spoke _do not fuck with me_. She guessed it was hard to rid himself of that authoritative charisma and she wasn’t about to ask him to now.

They didn’t speak much to each other until they made camp and even then words were few and far between. As much as Psyche tried, Zephyr refused to indulge in his secondary motivations, choosing instead to evade her questions with more questions until she became so dizzy and distracted she would forget.

He was talented like that.

But yet, as time wore on and days turned into weeks of them just simply walking, Psyche had put her foot down. Throughout all this time, there was one thing that still bothered her, one question that plagued her above all else. There were times she felt it slip on the tip of her tongue, but the words never would truly form.

Until one night.

It was late and the day had been hot. The path they had taken had led them to the city of Thespiae and the pair had tensed upon the sight of the structures ahead. The city was ever worshipful of her beloved husband, which meant they were also devoted to his mother as well. Psyche had briefly been pinned with excitement at the prospect that perhaps Eros may see her traveling through, but that quickly vanished when she realized that if he would, so would his mother.

And if she thought that, Zephyr had too.

Which had led them to their predicament; travel through and cut their time in half, or circle the city and avoid being seen, but add time onto their journey?

It was a no brainer to be sure.

Zephyr had sniffed and turned his back on the city, leading Psyche in the opposite direction. She had groaned inwardly, her feet protesting loudly, her muscles exhausted and her skin sweaty from the perspiration in the air, but she made no complaint as she followed. She couldn’t help it as her eyes cast back towards Thespiae, longing and desire reflected in their depths.

Circling the large city had been difficult and Zephyr was certainly on edge. She saw his eyes flittering back and forth while constantly making sure she remained at his side. The entire time, she couldn’t help but feel like they were being followed and judging by his demeanor and shifty behavior, there was almost no doubt about it.

But when nightfall came and Zephyr began to make camp near a cliff that overlooked the city in the distance, she stared on in confusion. The question that had been begging attention still prickled her mind, but her guardian was standoffish and the heat had made her exhausted.

Yet, as she lay on the furs and tried to sleep, it once again evaded her as the sensation that they were being watched still lingered. But Zephyr was near, so she attempted to sleep.

That is, until hours drew by and she finally heard rustling in his direction.

She didn’t dare open her eyes, but the crunching sound of twigs and leaves indicated that he was moving and it drew closer and closer until finally, fingers caressed her cheek and an overwhelming feeling of a looming presence hovered over her. Something told her to feign sleep, so she kept her eyes closed and her breathing even and deep to give off the impression Morpheus had taken her.

“Wow,” she heard; the exclamation breathy and taken aback. The voice was new and nearly startled her, but Psyche remained where she was.

Zephyr pulled away from her and she heard him stand. “Why am I not surprised to see you?”

“You know as well as I that Zeus has acted rather impulsively about his ban, but to see you gallivanting around and disobeying him is new.”

“Me? You have no room to speak. You are here, are you not? If he heard of the things you’ve done, he’d be quite angry!”

“I may be loyal to Zeus, but I am also loyal to my worshippers.” There was some shuffling and then an inhale of breath. “She is quite beautiful, isn’t she? No wonder Aphrodite is in such a tizzy…”

“Hmm,” Zephyr hummed and Psyche felt eyes upon her. It was unsettling. “So are you here to help us or turn us in?”

A raspy, amused chuckle rumbled. “After everything I’ve done, you think I’d ruin it all by dragging you back to Olympus?”

“I wouldn’t know—you never do anything unless it benefits you.”

“Zephyr please, do not insult me! I wouldn’t have helped you to track the poor girl and distract the pantheon while you smuggled her to safety if I intended to betray you.”

“Forgive me for being cautious, but where you go, Zeus and Hera’s eyes follow.” Zephyr sounded skeptical.

“They only see what I let them see,” the voice reassured. “My wards are superior. Now, what in Zeus’s name do you think you are doing being so close to Thespiae? Have you any idea the dangers you are putting her in by being here?”

There was a scoff. “We had no choice.”

“You could’ve taken her south to Plataea, but you didn’t. Why?”

Psyche held her breath to await his answer, but he remained quiet. She had been wondering as well why they stumbled upon the city when they could’ve traveled further south, but Zephyr seemed to know what he was doing.

Had he perhaps been offering her a chance to say goodbye?

“You’re a sentimental fool,” the stranger accused, confirming her suspicions.

“She’s been through enough… I thought I would give her as much closure as I could before we disappeared,” Zephyr defended wistfully.

There was a long sigh—it was heavy and thoughtful. “I have seen my fair share of punishments—each severe and ruthless in its own right, but Aphrodite has certainly reached a new low with this.” A pause followed and then, “Have you told her everything?”

“Not yet. I just found her—she has barely recovered, I felt it not wise to overwhelm her.”

It was at that point Psyche couldn’t keep quiet as her eyes sprang open and she sat up. “I still deserve to know!” she protested, only to falter when her eyes landed on the newcomer.

She had heard a great many stories of the Herald of the Gods, but to see him in the flesh was another thing entirely. He had always been depicted as thin, scrawny, Zeus’s lapdog even, but the God standing before her was anything but that. He had broad shoulders, tanned skin, shoulder length brown hair that curled at the ends and a strong square jaw. His eyes were a bright green with a hint of yellow and even in the dark they radiated. On his sandals was a pair of wings that looked extremely similar to the pair she had seen briefly on Eros’s back, but his circlet was missing atop his head and she wondered if he ever had one to begin with.

It was hard not to openly gap at him, and the herald must’ve found this amusing. He smirked and a cocky brow lifted over his eye with a mischievous glint. “I knew you weren’t sleeping,” he mused softly.

“You…You’re…” She felt a spark of fear as she finally registered Zephyr’s words from earlier.

_Where you go, Zeus and Hera’s eyes follow._

It was the truth. Zeus had many spies, but none like Hermes. He was extremely loyal to the God of Gods and where he went, eyes followed him. She paled and looked to Zephyr for reassurance.

Her companion sighed heavily and glared at Hermes. “Look at what your presence is doing!”

Hermes simply chuckled and shrugged. “I can’t help it. Ladies often go speechless at the sight of me, why should she be any different?”

Zephyr was currently making his way around the fire towards her, his hand resting on her shoulder and squeezing gently. “Speechless out of fear is very different than lust, you oaf!” He knelt beside the forgotten princess and said, “Do not worry, he’s here to help.”

“How can you be sure?” She asked, unable to take her eyes off Hermes. “You sounded skeptical yourself only moments ago!”

“Because…” Zephyr trailed off and glanced at the herald as if calculating his next words, before he continued, “Because he was the one who aided me in finding you at the brothel. He is the reason you are with me now, Psyche.”

It felt like she had shut down as his words sunk in. Her mouth was probably hanging open and she was sure she looked very unbecoming, but she didn’t care. It was extremely hard to process that the spymaster of Zeus was _helping her!_

“I think you broke her…” Hermes commented.

Zephyr growled. “You are not helping!” He turned back to Psyche, concern shining in his eyes as he brushed a length of hair away from her face. “Psyche? Are you alright?”

She shook her head very slowly and it took her a moment to find the words. “I don’t fully understand…”

“Well,” her companion started softly. “I told you that there were still others who believed in your cause.” He gestured to Hermes. “He happens to be one of them.”

“As much as I enjoy a bit of chaos and dramatics, Aphrodite has taken this too far and caused a chain of events that will have irreparable damage,” Hermes explained. He crossed his arms and the once amused expression vanished from his face, replaced with severe solemn. “And Zeus will not punish his favorite child—he is blind to her antics and instead of faulting her, he is placing blame on the rest of the pantheon.”

Psyche swallowed and as the shock wore off, her bones began to tremble and it wasn’t from the chill of the night air. “What does this have to do with me?”

Hermes and Zephyr exchanged a look and her companion huffed out a breath. “It all began with you—not that this is your fault!” He added quickly when he saw her bristle.

“It kind of is,” Hermes pointed out, ignoring Zephyr’s quick glare.

“As I was saying,” the God of the West Wind continued, “Eros is not only Aphrodite’s favorite child, but he was once her loyal servant and she does not share well. After discovering that he had wedded and bedded a mortal behind her back, she had become enraged with jealousy…you were eclipsing her in Eros’s life.”

“And when I betrayed him, it only made things worse,” Psyche said sadly.

Both Gods nodded.

“After the trials, Aphrodite went to Zeus and attempted to make a deal for your life,” Hermes cut in.

Her eyes widened and she tensed. “A deal? What kind of deal?”

“Remember how I mentioned there are worse things than Tartarus?” Zephyr asked. When she nodded hesitantly, he explained, “Imagine being at Aphrodite’s mercy for all eternity. She’d break you, turn you into something unrecognizable—hideous and monstrous, but in doing so, she would make it so you’d fall in love with her...you would never be able to betray her, you’d lose all sense of willpower and think nothing except of satisfying your mistress.”

“What?!”

“You’d become one of her harpies,” Hermes cleared up abrasively.

She gasped. “I would never let her do that to me!” she declared firmly.

“You’d have no choice,” the herald countered. “It would be easy for her. You are human.”

“Eros would—”

“He’d never find out. There are many things about Aphrodite even her own son doesn’t know. And she would make sure to keep it that way.”

She swallowed heavily and felt extremely vulnerable and helpless. Shaking her head, she said, “That still doesn’t explain why you are here helping me…”

Hermes began to pace. “Olympus is on the verge of bedlam and this ban _will_ be the end of Greece,” he stated harshly.

“What?” Psyche climbed to her knees and stared at him in disbelief. “How? Can’t you reason with Zeus?”

“No one can!” Zephyr exclaimed. “Once he makes up his mind there is no talking him out of it. Many have tried.”

“But—”

“Psyche,” Hermes called to her. She glanced over at him and became captured in his gaze. “It’s too late for Greece. But there is something we need you to do.”

“Hermes, I can do this without her!” the other God bellowed.

The herald scoffed. “You think any of them will trust another God so long as they exist? They will need someone who has been through what they have!”

Zephyr’s jaw twitched and he glanced at Psyche. “You can say no,” he told her.

She frowned and asked, “Say no to what?”

He searched her eyes and after a minute, he said, “There are others like you.”

“Like me?”

“Punished unjustly and forsaken by the Gods, left to live their life alone on the run from whatever rage follows them for the rest of eternity,” Hermes explained.

It didn’t take long for the unspoken request to dawn on her and she blinked up at them. “You want me to find them, don’t you?” Hermes and Zephyr hesitated, and the action made her frown. “What?”

“I can find them,” Hermes told her. “It’s my specialty. But…”

“We want you to unite them,” Zephyr interrupted.

“Me?!” She asked in awe.

“Yes,” the herald confirmed. “You are the only one they will be able to trust at first. They will need someone like you to guide them.”

“What?! How can I guide them when I can’t even help myself?!” she asked in a panic, pulling herself from the furs when she suddenly felt overheated. She stood on shaky legs, stumbling briefly and felt a hand grasp her upper arm to right her. Huffing, she yanked her arm free and shook her head. “I can’t…” Psyche breathed. “How can I help these people when I have the most vengeful Goddess to have ever existed hunting me and the only way for me to hide from her is to have another God cloak me?” She stared at them both helplessly. “I’d be putting them all at such a risk!”

Zephyr remained close to her and moved is hand to her back in an attempt to calm her. “You won’t be doing this alone. We’re going to aid you.”

Her head snapped up at that and she gazed at him skeptically. “We?”

He nodded. “Hermes and I, yes.”

“You will need a God who is powerful enough to cloak a large group of people without effort and unfortunately _Zephyrus_ does not contain such abilities since he is a _low class God_ ,” Hermes pointed out bluntly.

Psyche cocked a brow. “And you do?”

He smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you guys so much for all your awesome and kind words! This chapter wasn't meant to be posted this early in the story, but at this point I figured it wouldn't hurt and I can always switch it around later after we continue with the actual plot. Chapter 9 is currently in the works and almost done (has been for weeks), but a few things first...
> 
>  **Good news--** my sister-in-law woke up from her coma! (101 days she was unconscious, it's such a MIRACLE!) My family and I are SUPER excited! That's why this update has been delayed, because we received the call we never thought we'd EVER get! She woke up about two or three weeks ago and asked to speak to her mother and my fiance. She was able to recognize the voice of both of them, but her speech is very impaired right now. Ever since, though, my fiance and I have been working steadily in trying to get her into a rehabilitation center and we just recently were able to acquire her a bed in one of the top VA Rehab Centers in the country! So, we are so incredibly hopeful and happy!
> 
> Anyways, updates, hopefully, will be a little more frequent now that things are starting to find a steady stride. I can't make any promises now that we're entering into the two busiest seasons for Holidays, however I'm so relieved I can feel the inspiration already beginning to flow! I'm hoping to bang out a few chapters so that way I can update when needed without worrying about having to actually write (like I did this last time, I wrote two chapters ahead--pretty proud of myself)
> 
> This chapter was not posted to my Tumblr early because things have been so hectic, so I figured I'll post them both at the same time. Make sure to follow me over at [@lovethecrystalrose](http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com) as I'm thinking about publishing this story once it's completed. Consider this version the rough draft!
> 
> Blessings to all of you and thanks again for the words of encouragement! They give me warm fuzzies!!


	12. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio reach the colony only to meet a familiar face. Drama ensues.
> 
>  
> 
> _Unbeta'd. Mistakes are my own. Be kind, please._

# Chapter Nine

* * *

Hermes and Psyche pulled away from each other to stare over at Eros, his shocked outburst startling. His uncle cracked a grin and approached the young God.

“Eros, my boy!” It was always ironic to be called that by him—he looked no older than the Love God and was always just as mischievous. The only difference was Hermes was and would always be Zeus’s lap dog and that had Eros on high alert. “Long time!” He clapped the younger man on the shoulder in greeting.

“You’re here,” Eros stated dumbly.

Hermes smirked and nodded. “Yes.”

“In the colony.”

“Yes.”

“Helping Psyche.”

The herald didn’t even bother to look sheepish, but more proud and smug as he repeated his initial answer. “Yes! As are you, I see!” He gestured back to Psyche knowingly and exclaimed, “Glad to see the lovebirds have reunited!”

“Why?”

Hermes looked confused and cocked a brow. “Why am I glad? Now, that’s a stupid question…”

“No!” Eros shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. “Why are you here?! You don’t do _anything_ unless it benefits you!”

Understanding dawned on the herald and he turned back to face Psyche and Zephyr. “You haven’t told him, yet, have you?”

Both shook their heads.

“I keep telling her she needs to, but you know her,” Zephyr grumbled.

Psyche tossed him a withering glare.

Hermes sighed. “Well, this is gonna be interesting.” He rubbed the back of his neck and offered Eros an appraising, borderline concerned look before turning away to approach the forgotten princess. He smiled warmly and rested a hand on her shoulder, careful to avoid her still seeping wounds. “Come along, dear, we should get these tended to. Seems you’re _guardian_ has forgotten how mortal and fragile you still are despite your expanded lifespan.”

“Hey!” Zephyr protested as the pair walked along the dirt road, heading in the direction of a small building in the distance.

The God of the West Wind shook his head and growled. “No matter how many times I see him, he always seems to find a way to get under my skin!” He hazard a glance back at Eros to find him looking on with a mildly perturbed expression that he couldn’t hide no matter how hard he tried. “Pissed?”

“Yes.” The dark blonde approached him rigidly. “All this time, my closest friends have hid my wife from me and both of them have seen how hard I’ve attempted to find her, and yet they never said a word to me.”

Zephyr cocked a brow and scoffed. “You’re narcissism will never cease to amaze me.”

“It’s not narcissistic to be concerned for the wellbeing of someone you love.” Eros’s eyes flashed. “I acknowledge that _I_ _fucked up_ ,” he spat, the curse falling from his lips with ease even though it was foreign of him to spew such filth. “But how can I fix what I’ve broken if you and Psyche fight me every step of the way? How can I help if I’m left in the dark like an untrusting stranger?”

Zephyr grew quiet at that, his eyes blinking slowly as he absorbed his old friends words. Unbeknownst to him, he had built up a strong barrier just like Psyche had and he had never truly realized just how distrusting he had become of his own kind—of his own friend. Or was it perhaps jealousy that was starting to play a factor?

He had seen how Psyche reacted to being in such close proximity to Eros and it stirred something sinister and dark in his belly. Zephyr had convinced himself through all this time that he was content in friendship—simply being close to Psyche and having her near, be it kinship or otherwise, was enough.

But maybe he had been deluding himself to the inevitable fact that his feelings ran deeper and that maybe, _just maybe_ , they weren’t as selfless as he had initially boasted about.

Eros, having grown tired of the staring contest he found himself in, pivoted on his heel without saying a word. He quickly followed the path that Psyche and Hermes disappeared down not moments before.

Unlike his friend who found himself conflicted in a series of battling emotions, Eros was sure in how he felt. He knew he still had something with Psyche and he knew she felt the connection. Whatever was transpiring between them was smoldering like the starting wisp of a flame—it just needed tending to, nurtured carefully so that it didn’t burn too fast or too bright.

And unlike Zephyr who suddenly seemed cautious and threatening by his appearance, the Love God was determined to break the walls of distrust and dismay that surrounded his beloved’s heart. It was only a matter of time, but he knew he could do it.

 

*     *     *

 

“I don’t like the look you’re giving me…”

After the awkward reunion, Psyche found herself sitting upon a hospital bed—the infirmary building she was in having been recently remodeled since her last visit. It had started out as a crude structure built from wood, fabric, mud, and stone, but ever since, the colony had begun to modernize as time passed and now it looked closer to an actual Urgent Care center with the exception of some of the cracks in the walls and poor lighting.

The colony had limited resources—forcefully and without choice, she reminded herself as she took in the changes. They provided their own electricity courtesy of a nearby waterfall, having set up a system that utilized the water into creating and generating the colonies power. Food was farmed and local, everything from cows, pigs, and sheep, to growing their own herbs, vegetables, and medicinal needs.

Everything else, however, had been acquired through unconventional means. The only reason they had a lot of the things they did was because they were stolen from civilization—like the hospital bed she was sitting on.

Another story for another day.

“What look is that?”

Psyche frowned at Hermes. “Like you’re reading me and you know everything without my having to tell you.”

He smirked smugly. “Maybe that’s what I’m doing…”

Hermes contained the unique ability of telepathy that many of the divine were not blessed with. It’s what made him the perfect herald for Zeus—he knew who was lying, what people were thinking, and every person’s planned steps. He was the ultimate spymaster for the God of Gods.

And he was helping _her_.

“Are you?” She grumbled, not caring for having him pick at her brain without asking.

He shrugged unashamedly. “It’s kind of hard not to. You’re screaming at me.”

She winced. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine.” Sitting down on one of the rolling stools, he spun in a circle leisurely as he spoke. “You doubt him.”

Psyche turned her eyes on the man currently working on her cuts. He was older, with graying hair and a dark beard. If they were in public together they more than likely would’ve been mistaken as father and daughter, but she knew better. She was much, much older than him.  

As she watched him work, she confessed, “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” Hermes hummed. His feet occasionally kicked out at the floor as he continued to spin slowly. “You’re worried she’ll take you again because he’s here.”

“She just tried…”

“And didn’t succeed! You’re here now, are you not?” He stopped spinning and faced her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You honestly believe he’d do that?”

She lifted a shoulder, but cringed at the movement. The doctor working on her gave her a look that said _“don’t do that again”_ before returning back to a deep cut on her forearm. “Zephyr seems to think she’s tracking us through him.”

“Of course she is!” He announced. “That’s a smart thing to do! Hell, if I were in her position, I’d be doing that too!”

She cocked a tense brow at him and glared. “You sound like you’re impressed!”

Hermes rolled his eyes. “You’re such a drama queen. Of course, I’m impressed! Aphrodite may be gorgeous, but come on! Even you have to admit that’s a bold move for her. Tracking her own son to find you! That’s clever! As well as a low blow.” He held up a finger to stop her words before she could spew them and stated firmly, “However, Eros should’ve known better! Coming to you uncloaked was foolish and he knew there had been some kind of misfortune between you and Aphrodite—it was the talk of Olympus! That’s ignorance in the highest form; he knows how much his mother loves to hold onto grudges.”

She stared at him in disbelief and a bit of panic. “Are you telling me I should send him away?”

Hermes paused and the weight of the silence in the room was suffocating. Finally, he countered her question with, “Do _you_ think you should send him away?”

She wasn’t given long enough time to think on his question as the small door to the room burst open and in walked Eros like he owned the room. The doctor turned on the stool he was sitting on, ready to scold whoever had entered before he paled at the sight of the God.

“ _Divine Eros_ ,” the doctor greeted as he stood. He bowed his head, trying his hardest to hide his trembling at the sight of the son of a spiteful Goddess. “I must apologize, but I have to ask you to leave the—”

“No, it’s okay,” Psyche interrupted, her hand reaching out to touch the doctors arm lightly. “He can stay.”

Eros eyed the doctor who had become a flustering mess. It was obvious the people of the community weren’t use to seeing so many Gods all at once and he wasn’t sure if it was out of awe or fear. He decided to leave it alone for now as his eyes fell on Psyche atop the bed, the cuts on her one arm having already been cleaned and bandaged.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he walked around the doctor to cup her chin carefully.

She gave him a small smile before looking down at the rest of the wounds still unattended—the action dismissive of his touch and creating a wall between them.

“Fine,” she said as she gestured to herself. “I’ve had worse.”

Something passed over his eyes at that. “I don’t particular like the fact that you’ve had worse, either.” He glanced over at Hermes who had returned to his playful spinning. “It seems there is much I don’t know and I’m sure I’m not going to like most of it.”

Her eyes followed his over to the herald in the corner. The man was acting oblivious, but she knew he was listening intently. “Where’s Zephyr?” she asked.

“I left him by the gate,” Eros told her.

“He’s having a pity party for himself—probably going to hit up the tavern. It’s crossed his mind once or twice.” Hermes flashed them both a grin.

“He’s not feeling guilty for what happened, is he?” Psyche asked, worried.

“Hm…among other things,” he hinted knowingly.

“Like?” It was hard to describe how incredibly frustrating it was to converse with someone who knew everything a person was thinking and wasn’t forthcoming with information out of the sheer fact it amused them to see people wriggle and squirm.

That was Hermes through and through.

“Ask your lover boy.” He stood and stretched, ignoring the warning in Eros’s eyes. The young God knew all about his schemes. “I must be off. If I’m away too long from Zeus’s side, he becomes cranky and suspicious. Don’t get yourself into any trouble while I’m gone, princess.” Hermes approached Psyche and gave her earlobe an affectionate tug before winking at Eros and making his exit.

The couple watched him leave and they both sighed simultaneously.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping my boundaries, but I feel I must warn you that Hermes can’t always be trusted,” Eros spoke plainly as he turned to watch the doctor get up and move around the girl.

Psyche rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, the doctor spoke, “Milady, I need to ask you to remove your shirt. The marks on your back are deep.” His gaze met Eros. “Perhaps now is the time to step away for a moment of privacy?”

The room fell quiet and the air grew thick at the thought of having to remove her shirt. It had been a long time since she had been naked in front of a man before, and most times they were neither pleasant nor welcomed. The thought of being alone while this was done was suddenly unbearable even though the doctor was a trustworthy and honorable man.

Eros reluctantly made for the door.

As her hand rubbed at her thighs nervously, Psyche murmured, “It’s okay, I want him to stay.”

He paused and looked over at her in surprise.

She gave him a pleading look not dissimilar to the one she gave him the night of her nightmare. “Please?”

He appeared thoughtful, but then his eyes fell to her fisted hands and saw her knuckles were white against the fabric of her cut up jeans. She was scared and asking him to stay was enlightening—perhaps she trusted him more than she let on?

“Of course,” Eros said as he walked over to the abandoned stool and sat down.

It was strange, but having him in the room made her feel more secure even with the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. It had been over two thousand years since he had seen her nude.

The doctor behind her cleared his throat and said, “Okay, then. Milady, your shirt, if you would?”

She nodded and clutched at the hem of her torn shirt. There was no curtain to give her the privacy to change, but she didn’t need it. Eros had seen her naked plenty of times and the bra she wore had snapped under the stress of the harpies claws. The back of her shirt was practically ribbons, so it was amazing what was left had survived the trek through the woods.

Carefully, Psyche lifted the shirt, her muscles screaming in protest and her wounds weeping bloody tears at her movement. The adrenaline had worn off ages ago and the pain had settled into her flesh and bones and colonized. Not only was she shaking from embarrassment and fear of being naked in a room with men but the pain was intense.

It was hard to move her arms upwards—her shoulders ached something fierce, so lifting her shirt beyond her chest felt like lifting a boulder. It was a struggle. So when a pair of warm hands joined hers to help free her from the confines, she flinched and turned pale.

Eros stood before her, his eyes soft and filled with remorse at the sight of her torso littered with bruises and scratches from the glass and the harpies. He was unused to seeing her in such a state, so it was hard to digest. Watching her attempt to disrobe as she had been made him feel useless and helpless.

He couldn’t remain that way.

Eros would be lying if he had said he hadn’t noticed her flinch, but he pretended for her sake as he helped to lift the shirt up over her shoulders and then finally her head. Her tattered bra that still clung to her arms slid forward to reveal her unmarred breasts, her nipples pebbling as they met the air.

Psyche’s cheeks turned a shade of pink and instinctually, she folded her arms over her naked chest to cover herself out of habit.

“Do you have a sheet?” Eros asked the doctor behind her who had begun to tend to the deep claw marks in her back.

His head popped up and he blinked at the God before the tools in his hands clattered back on the tray and he turned in search of something to cover the lady. Moments later, he returned with an old towel, a sheepish expression on his face as he handed it to Eros.

“A-apologies,” he stuttered before quickly returning back to work where he felt the most comfortable.

Eros shook out the towel, the ends frayed with the fabric slowly coming undone, but it would do. He held it open for Psyche who gratefully opened her arms and allowed him to wrap her front with it. As he did so, he discarded the remains of her brassiere.

Clutching the towel to her chest, Psyche gave him a small smile of gratitude. “Thank you.”

He nodded, making sure to keep his eyes on her face. “You’re welcome, love.”

Psyche tried to relax as the doctor worked, but it was hard when she felt Eros’s eyes brush along her skin. It wasn’t in a lustful way and looking over at him confirmed it. He was staring at her wounds with deep concern, his brows puckered and his eyes pained. To her, this wasn’t the worst of her battle wounds, but to him, he had never seen her skin scuffed and bloodied.

She was sure it was a shock.

“You know,” she started softly, pulling him from his thoughts, “you don’t have to stay if this bothers you.”

His eyes lifted to hers in surprise as if he were offended she would suggest such a thing. Shaking his head, he replied, “I should be comforting you, not the other way around.”

Psyche sighed with partial annoyance. “Eros, I’m a big girl. I can handle myself, honestly.”

“It’s shocking that you are so accepting of this. That is what bothers me,” he admitted with a scowl.

She frowned. “You think I’m okay with this?” She gestured to the many bruises and dried blood on her body. “You’re wrong! I’m far from okay, but there isn’t anything I can do. I’m alive!”

It was the only way she could put it simply. She was alive.

“You said this wasn’t the worst of it. What else has my mother done?” He pressed with narrowed eyes.

Psyche stilled at his question and knew she had stuck her foot in it. There was no way she could escape either with the doctor working carefully on the wounds on her back—the worst of her injuries. Every now and then, she would wince, but it was manageable.

“Not now,” she insisted.

“When, Psyche?” He erupted, causing the doctor to flinch at his tone and pause in his work.

The girl turned around to make sure he was okay and exchanged an apologetic smile with him before tossing her ex-husband a glare. “When we’re alone,” she growled.

“Leave us,” Eros ordered the man and Psyche protested. He shook his head. “No, we’re talking about this now and if all it takes is to be alone, then we shall be alone!”

The doctor looked hesitant as he switched his gaze between the two. Eventually Psyche gave in and nodded.

Seconds later, the door closed and the couple were left to themselves. Psyche held the towel closer to her body and pulled herself from bed. “If we’re doing this, I don’t particular care for being half naked as I do so,” she exclaimed while she gave him the ‘ _turn around’_ gesture with her finger.

He looked mildly perturbed and rolled his eyes, making a show of holding his hands up as he turned around. It was a placating move.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“You’ve lost the privilege of seeing it again,” she informed him firmly as she dropped the towel. “Take off your shirt.”

“What?” The God nearly pivoted to face her in confusion, but she screeched at him to stay where he was and he froze instantly.

“Just take off your shirt! I know you have a beater underneath, so just give me your button up! I have nothing else and the towel itches!”

Eros glanced down at his clothing and shrugged before making quick work of the buttons. He pulled the shirt off and turned to hand it to her, but Psyche quickly covered her naked breasts and snarled, “Stay turned around!”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled as he held it out.

She snatched the offered shirt and shook it out gently, careful of her shoulder and the cuts on her arms and back. Slowly, she inched it on, hissing every now and then as the fabric irritated some of the gashes.

“Are you alright?” He asked when he heard her pained noises.

“Fine,” she said flatly as she proceeded to button it up. “You can turn around. I’m pretty much decent.”

As he did so, Psyche knew he caught a glimpse of naked flesh before it was concealed, but he didn’t leer and his gaze didn’t linger. Instead, he had a look of awe as she began rolling up the sleeves that hung off her arms. He stepped forward and helped her wordlessly. She made no fuss about it since he was gentler than she was.

“Can we talk now?” Eros asked as he finished with the other sleeve.

She let out a long breathy sigh that said she wanted no part in this. “What do you want to know? I make no promises in answering everything.”

“I’d like to know everything,” he said.

Psyche chuckled, but it was without humor. “Okay, I’ll make you a compromise. I’ll answer three specific questions, but you can’t ask anything about what was done to me or who else helped me!”

“Psyche!” He protested quickly with a hard look.

She shook her head and went to cross her arms, but thought better of it. Instead, she placed her hands on her hips defiantly. He stared her down with one of his notoriously intimidating stares, but she met it with one of her own.

“Take it or leave it!”

He growled and turned away from her, walking a short distance while pulling at his hair in frustration. For a second, she felt bad, but she quickly reminded herself of their history and her distrust.

Yes, this was right.

After some time passed, his head bowed and his hand rubbed at the back of his neck while his shoulders deflated in defeat. “I have so many questions,” he stated quietly. “How can you expect me to choose?”

“You just have to.” Her tone was gentle but unyielding.

Eros glanced at her with sorrow. “You realize how unfair this seems to me?”

Psyche bit her lip and looked away.

“I know you don’t trust me.”

“Trust seems like a farfetched idea with everything that’s happened, but no,” she explained. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I’m just not ready. I’m scared.”

“Scared of what, Psyche?” He asked as he approached her quickly, taking her face in his hands so that they were looking at each other.

She grasped his wrists and let out a trembling breath when she felt his warmth seep into her skin. Her eyes fell closed as she relished this moment—she couldn’t help it. Her body relaxed without permission.

His forehead pressed against hers, their noses nudging one another’s. Eros’s breath wafted against her face as they breathed together and his thumbs gently caressed her cheeks, careful of any cuts.

“You can tell me,” he broke the silence.

Psyche frowned—the spell now dispelled—and she backed away from him to clear her head. “Ask your questions. I’m tired and the doctor still has to finish my back before I can rest.”

He looked pained by the distance she was placing between them, but it was necessary. Turning, she sat back on the bed and awaited the inquisitive onslaught he had prepared, but he continued to gaze at her for a long pause.

Then, it was like time unfroze and Eros began to pace.

She watched him walk back and forth as he lost himself in thought, his face scrunched up in concentration until finally; he turned to her with heated eyes and started, “My mother…”

Psyche nodded.

“You crossed paths with her,” he stated. “But after I left, I had made sure you were taken back home. So, how did this start?”

Her jaw tightened as she remembered the long trek it took to find Aphrodite’s temple. “I was disgraced when I returned home and all I could think about was how it was just a misunderstanding.” Psyche met his eyes and admitted, “I just wanted to talk to you—to explain! So I left and sought your mother out hoping I’d get the chance.”

The corner of his lips turned downward. “She would’ve never given you the opportunity.”

“Yeah,” she murmured as she stared down at the floor solemnly. “I know that now.”

“You wanted to explain? Explain what?”

She wasn’t sure if he realized he was wasting one of his three questions, but she wasn’t about to correct him. “About what happened…” she fidgeted. “You remember allowing my sisters to stay with us briefly?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I didn’t really care for them being there, but you insisted.”

“I know,” Psyche chuckled lightly. “I should’ve listened to you. Frona, my eldest sister, always had a way of making me believe anything. She told me she heard whispers that you were a hideous monster that devoured those of great beauty and were only waiting for the right moment to kill me. I had no reason not to trust her.” His eyes widened and she backpedaled in defense. “I was scared, Eros! You refused to tell me who you were, you only ever came to me in darkness, and I never saw your face! All I knew was that I was to be married to a creature that the Gods feared and to hear something like that from my sister only made me more terrified!”

“You should’ve said something to me!” Eros growled ferociously. “All of this could’ve been avoided! I knew they shouldn’t have come!”

He turned away as he fumed, muttering under his breath.

There was one thing Psyche didn’t care for and that was having her past misgivings tossed back at her, especially by someone who had no room to speak. Perhaps she should’ve said something, but she didn’t and there was no changing it.

Psyche stood abruptly, unable to control her swirling emotions as they came to a head. “What did you expect me to do?! If I had told you, I would’ve never been able to see my family again! You would’ve forbid it! I was already imprisoned in that…in that…Gods forsaken palace with servants I wasn’t allowed to see! I was _dying_ for some human interaction!” She glared at him with fire in her eyes.

“That’s the thing about you fucking Gods!” Psyche screamed at him and he took a step back in shock. “You forget that we’re mortal! We have flaws, we crave touch and company! We are not meant to be locked away like a pet or a toy, but you still treat us as such because we’re always beneath you! I made _one mistake!_ ” She held up a finger to enunciate her point. “One! And I’ve paid for it for the last two thousand years, but heaven forbid you be held accountable for your faults!”

Towards the end, there were tears in her eyes, brimming over and falling down her cheeks as she panted. For so long, she had wanted to scream at him, tell him all she felt, but it didn’t make her feel better.

She felt worse.

Eros was frighteningly quiet and seemingly unmoved by the sight of her tears. There was slightest shift in his tense stance that betrayed how this was affecting him. He swallowed heavily and audible, his hands by his sides fisting till his knuckles were white.

“I thought I was protecting you,” he spoke in a hushed voice that trembled.

Psyche inhaled and exhaled slowly, but her heart was still rapidly thumping away in her chest—so much so it kind of hurt.

“It’s obvious we’re from two completely different worlds,” she exchanged. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand how your mind works. It baffles me.”

She sniffled and wiped furiously at the tears that were streaking down her cheeks. Suddenly, a hand found its way in her line of sight and a thumb brushed a drop from her chin.

The touch was tender and apologetic.

“I shouldn’t have left you,” he whispered.

Psyche cringed. “Yeah, well, there was a lot that should’ve been done, but there’s no going back now.”

His hand found her waist and she was tugged into his chest. She stiffened as he carefully enveloped her in his arms with his chin resting on top of her head. Psyche didn’t fight it. Instead, she allowed herself to relax into his hold, her arms hesitantly coming up to wound around his torso to hold him back.

This felt good—comforting.

They both sighed. Her head was tucked into his neck and she watched those corded muscles of his contract and release over and over. Absentmindedly, she brushed her lips against his skin, but the action lingered between a kiss and an accidental swipe of the lips—or that’s what she told herself.

He didn’t comment on it, though his arms did tighten just a little. She winced from the slight pain from her back, but said nothing. This moment felt too precious to break.

Although, Eros had something on his mind that he felt needed to be addressed.

“The punishments you endured,” he said into her hair, making sure to hold her steadfast as she tried to pull away.

“Eros, you know I won’t answer anything regarding them!”

“Just…” His eyes fell closed as he pleaded, “I need to know. It’s driving me insane… How bad was it?”

Psyche stayed silent for a long moment as she rested her forehead against his neck. “Would it make a difference if you knew the severity or not?” she asked.

“Zephyr told me once that he wouldn’t ever wish it on someone mortal or divine…”

“Then, I guess you already know how bad.”

“Were you—?”

She pulled herself from his arms and shook her head. “That was three questions and I even gave you a free pass on one of them. Can we stop here while it’s still calm? Please?” she nearly begged.

Eros wanted to fight. His nostrils flared a bit and he looked ready to push for more, but the sight of her desperation told him how unwise that would be. Baby steps, he told himself. This was progress, at least.

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I want you to stay with me tonight,” he declared.

Psyche blushed. “Eros, I…”

“Not for…what you think,” he reassured her quickly. “There’s more we need to discuss and…”

She waited, but he never continued. “And?”

For once, Eros looked shy. “And I’d like to stay close to you… If you’ll allow it.”

Psyche stared up at him like a deer caught in headlights, but before she could gather the courage to answer him, the door squeaked open and in walked the nervous doctor stuttering his need to continue treating her wounds before an infection spread.

His shifty gaze flittered between the two immortal beings, their body language tense and filled with unspoken sexual chemistry. Then, as if someone had clapped, they broke apart and Psyche carefully took her shirt off to allow the doctor to continue working. As he took his place at her back, he shook his head and allowed a small smile to spread across his lips. An old man he may be, he was no stranger to the longings and desires of distant, complicated love.

And these two stunk of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the, frankly, huge delay on this chapter. Between my sister-in-law's accident, my mother losing her house, my sister losing her house, and then some, this year hasn't been too kind. Also, to make matters worse, my dog that my fiance and I adopted when we first got together passed away from brain cancer last week and we didn't even know she had it. The last 7 weeks had been awful with her being constantly sick with a mysterious illness and seizure after seizure. Finally, on March 8, she passed away and we're devastated. I'm ready for something good to happen...
> 
> So, in the midst of my grief, I decided to write. I'm taking a week off work to deal with this because my entire day revolved around taking care of my dog, so I'm at a loss with what to do with myself now. Hopefully I can provide something useful with my time and update this story. This isn't my best chapter, but I really wanted to get it out.
> 
> Enjoy


	13. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eros discovers who founded the colony and has an unsettling blast from the past.
> 
>  
> 
> _unbeta'd! All mistakes are owned by moi! Please feel free to let me know of a mistake so I can correct!_

# Chapter Ten

* * *

 

Walking around the colony was surreal for Eros.

It had only been an hour since leaving Psyche with the doctor—correction; her pushing him out the door for hovering too much was more like it. He felt at a loss what to do and instead decided to find the tavern they spoke of earlier in hopes Zephyr would be there. He underestimated how big the colony was as he walked the streets, but he didn’t fail to notice the looks he received as he made his way by.

People stopped and stared, either to marvel at him or gaze in horror he wasn’t entirely sure. Something told him the looks he received weren’t warm and welcoming, but Eros was used to being on the receiving end of glares and malicious words. His previous antics, although humorous and harmless in nature, had caused more pain than he anticipated, yet it never stopped him from continuing his pranks and jokes. He never gave it much thought how striking someone with his arrows would cause disruption in their life—he purely saw the entertainment aspect of it all and that was it.

It wasn’t until he met Psyche that his preconceived notions shifted from mischievous and selfish to one who became more aware of the consequences of his actions. It was because of her that allowed his eyes to open to the awful traits within his mother. He knew how judgmental and cruel she could be, but he had followed her blindly with the belief that she wreaked her justice with righteousness. He didn’t want to see the spite in her beautiful eyes.

As he trudged along, he felt something hit him on the back of his shoulder and he spun to find a decayed fish at his feet, smelly and rotten. Eros glanced up to see an angry woman standing some feet in the distance, her eyes glaring with a hateful fire and a bucket of dead fish resting by her feet.

“You have some nerve showing your face here!” the woman spat. “Son of the spiteful bitch, grandson of the one who has abandoned us all! You are the cause of all this!”

Eros’s brow furrowed, and he held his hands up in a placating gesture in hopes to calm the woman who was now creating a scene.

“I’m not here to harm anyone!” He defended as his attention shifted to the gathering crowd.

“Like we’d believe a word out of your mouth! You would spew anything to earn our trust!” she shouted as she delved into the bucket for another fish before throwing it at him.

He dodged it by simply taking a step to the side and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Though Eros was used to being the object of everyone’s hate, he didn’t take well to being called a liar. His hand fisted tightly as he restraint himself from his knee-jerk reaction of impaling the offender with a lead arrow.

“If you would just calm down and stop throwing things at me!” He began as he tried to approach her.

The woman lifted another fish and held her empty hand out to stop him in place. “Don’t you dare come near me! I remember the last time we crossed paths, I will not be so easily tricked again!” Her voice trembled, and her hand shook.

The words spoken made Eros pause and he took her appearance in with critical observation. She didn’t look familiar, but then again, he had interacted with many women in his time that they all bled together. If she was a scorned ex-lover of his, he couldn’t recall who and when. Another nagging voice told him that perhaps she wasn’t a former lover, but maybe she was just another victim who had fallen to his childish ways of the past—a casualty in one of his pranks?

Catching on to his silent confusion, the foreign girl let out a disbelieved chuckle. “You honestly don’t remember me, do you?” She sniffled as she fidgeted in place, her hand still poised to throw the fish in defense. “I mean, why would you? I was of no significance, but you and yours made sure to ruin everything for me!”

Eros stared at her with wide eyes, a pained look reflecting back at him. He didn’t know what to say.

“Eros,” he heard someone call to him.

Turning his head, he saw a solemn Zephyr approaching him, the man tossing the mysterious woman a warning look who immediately dropped the fish back into the bucket.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, his eyes not straying from the woman and his tone steady.

The girl sneered at the God of Love as she spoke to Zephyr. “It was a mistake bringing him here! He will only make things worse!”

“Myra, you need to calm down.”

“I will not!” the girl known as Myra bellowed, her eyes glassy like crystals. “I remember what he did to me – what he took from me! And you brought him here! It won’t be long before his demon of a mother will find us, and we will _all_ be back where we started! I won’t go back!”

Zephyr sighed and took five long strides before placing his hand on the crying woman’s shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said softly. He glanced subtly back at Eros who stood tense and firm. “You know the wards will hold.”

She shook her head and sniffled. “I can feel something bad will happen if he stays here, _Divine Zephyrus!_ Please, send him away!”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I cannot. You must overcome your grief with him in your own time. He is here because he needs our help just like you.”

Myra nearly crumbled with a sob. “How can you help someone who has caused so much pain?! He is just like all the others!”

She backed away from Zephyr and grabbed her bucket, tears streaming down her face before she shuffled off down the street. The people who gathered to watch the spectacle lingered and she shouted at them as she passed before she disappeared into the distance.

Zephyr released a heavy breath and he turned back to Eros. “Can’t leave you alone for five minutes before the mob descends,” he commented with a teasing note.

Eros rolled his eyes. “I was only trying to find the tavern,” he defended. “I did nothing to provoke her!”

“I don’t know about that,” his friend mused.

A smell wafted up to the Love God’s nose and he cringed when he caught wind of the dead fish scent clinging to his shirt. “Who was that anyway?” he asked as he brushed absentmindedly at his shoulder.

Zephyr steered Eros back towards the tavern. “That was Smyrna,” he said. “But she goes by Myra now.”

It was a short walk to the tavern from where they were, and Zephyr ushered his friend inside. He offered a short greeting to the barman who was quick to have two steins delivered to the men as they took their seats at a table near the back.

“She was angry with me…” Eros stared at his drink in mild confusion. “I don’t understand why.”

Zephyr took a hefty swig and leaned back in his seat, taking on the posture of someone who was relaxed and at home. “After helping to build this place from the ground up, you come to learn about the inhabitants in a short amount of time. Myra, unfortunately, wears her emotions on her sleeve.”

“Are they all as angry as her?”

He cracked a smile. “No. Some have accepted the way of things while others have allowed their bitter resentment to consume them. I’m sure you can guess which one Myra indulges.”

Eros lifted his stein and swallowed. He swiped at the wetness left behind on his chin. “She said I did something to her. Something personal.” He was met with a nod. “I don’t remember her.”

“Hate to break this to you, my friend, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you come across more than one person here who has crossed paths with you and your arrows.” Zephyr shrugged a shoulder and his grin widened. “You kind of had a way with shooting anything that moved.”

The man in question rolled his eyes. “I was curious about the powers within my arrows and no one had the patience to teach me.”

“Please!” Zephyr sputtered with a laugh. “That can’t be your excuse! You were still shooting people up until…” He trailed off at the glare Eros threw his way.

“I wasn’t making an excuse for myself.” He turned his glare away to the other patrons of the tavern. “Are they all immortal too?”

Zephyr allowed the subject to change as he eyed each person before turning away with disinterest. “No. Some are descendants of the immortals. Other are… I guess you could say friends?”

Descendants? Majority of the patrons within the tavern were older, aging and tired. Some had smiles on their faces while others looked as though they preferred the comforts of a dark corner than a companion.

“Friends?” Eros turned his sharp eyes on the man sitting across from him. “You mean mortals who know we exist?”

“I mean some of the descendants haven’t always lived within the colony, and while they were away they made some connections and brought them back when they returned. Husbands, wives, lovers. You know, people of importance.” The glass of the stein made a thump noise as it was placed back on the table, the contents now empty.

Eros’s gaze roamed once more. It wasn’t difficult to pinpoint who was immortal and who wasn’t now that Zephyr had said something. Those who weren’t immortal had adapted to the new era—their attire more modern and neat while those who were immortal were clearly set in their ways, clinging to the past with their _chitons, peplos,_ and _himation’s_.

As he studied the people within the small tavern, he saw one staggering difference. The majority of the immortals were _young._ He winced when he came to the painful realization that the offspring weren’t immortal at all, but very human who experienced life and death. They would die someday; they were vulnerable, fragile, and weak.

He felt sick.

“You allowed them to leave unprotected?”

“Of course not,” Zephyr scoffed. “Psyche would kill me if I did such a thing. We put measures in place to let the children leave for an extended period of time. Some wanted a chance to experience society, others wanted an education beyond the colony, and Psyche didn’t want to hinder them the opportunity. It was a risky move.”

“Very risky,” Eros noted.

“Smart, though.” Zephyr gestured to one woman standing near the front. “See that lady there? She left for a little over decade—went to college, had her own place, and all the little inane material possessions mortals can’t live without anymore. She studied Agricultural Science.”

“Agricultural Science?”

“A broad term for farming or the science of farming.” Zephyr gestured to the younger looking man beside her. “See him next to her? That’s her father.”

“He’s an immortal,” Eros pointed out.

“Mm-hmm.” The chair creaked as the body sitting within it shifted. “He was punished by Demeter for making a crude joke when he stumbled on her drunk. Legend says that he was turned into a spotted gecko, but really, she made it so whenever food touched his lips, it would turn to ash. Her rage had nearly consumed him to the point of madness and starvation, but he couldn’t die because she forced his life to bind to hers. He was on the cusp of delirium when Psyche found him.”

Eros was nodding along, listening intently, before he shook his head and frowned. “Wait! What do you mean, _‘Psyche found him’_?”

“Look around, Eros,” Zephyr instructed quietly. “All these people are here _because_ of her. What did you think she did with her time? Pine away for you in love lost?”

He didn’t rise to the bait.

Eros fell back in his chair and felt his breathe leave him. All these people. Every one of them. Either punished unjustly or nearly killed for a reason – superficial, flawed, or insignificant – now gathered in one place that was prospering. Now he understood what Psyche meant when she had said this place was like a sanctuary. There was no like.

It simply was.

A place of solace and peace – a place that shielded each person from the horrible rage that still followed them. The curse that would never be broken because the Gods who placed it on them had forgotten them nor would they be forgiven.

It was the way of Olympus.

Eros never contemplated the severity or impact the punishments had on the worshippers. He never took into consideration just how many people had, in fact, stood accused or cursed. Instead, he chose to believe that the Gods were just and righteous, and that the worshippers needed them and their guidance. One step out of bounds was deserving of a lashing for everything the Gods provided. Certainly! Where would the mortals be if not for the Gods of Olympus?

Looking around, it hit him. Psyche was right.

The mortals didn’t need the Gods – they survived famine, war, and genocide without begging for aid. They were still going strong and even multiplied in numbers so great that cities were overflowing in population! Love still blossomed, food still grew from the grounds, and the sun still rose and set from east to west. Life always found a way of living on.

Perhaps he truly was ignorant. He no longer could be – couldn’t afford to be.

It was slapping him in the face, this epiphany.

“Who…” He cleared his throat when it broke with emotion. “Who did you say that woman’s name was earlier?”

Zephyr gave him a knowing look. “Myra.”

Eros shook his head. “No, her real name.”

“Smyrna.”

“Smyrna,” Eros repeated quietly before he closed his eyes and brought forth her face.

The pain in her eyes, the anger in her voice, the trembling of her hands, and the fear that wafted off her even though she stood bravely before him. He had met so many people, shot so many people that each one looked no different from the last. He only ever saw them as a mission to accomplish – if they weren’t pleasing him in ways that benefited only him, they had no other meaning to fulfill.

So, who was she?

There was a sense of familiarity as he thought of her, his old mind ticking back to a time so long ago when he was a mere youngster that bended to the will of his mother. Servitude was his life then, and sex was his reward.

Shame at who he once was filtered in briefly, but Eros was able to ignore it.

He recalled a moment of standing on the outskirts of a large village, his body perched on a cliffside with his bow in hand and an arrow notched. He could see clearly in the dead of night, the window with the curtains flowing in the cool breeze providing only a minor obstacle to his aim. Beyond, in the low candlelight, was a young girl. Her back was to him, but her hair, silken, threaded, and dark from the ambience was all he could see of her features.

Knowing her to be his target, Eros had taken aim, remembering his mother’s words.

_“Let it be true. The moment she see’s his face, your arrow shall penetrate her heart, and in her lust-filled agony, he will strike her down!”_

There were many times he had heard his mother spew hatred with a look of glee, so he didn’t flinch. His mother had been wronged and it needed to be righted – by his arrows.

Down the ways, he saw a shadow and lifted his elbow. The girl stood, the maids that were in the room – whom he hadn’t seen – left quickly as the man entered and wished her a blessed night.

His aim had been true just as his mother wished.

And he watched for twelve consecutive nights as the woman slept with her father, only to later bear him a child – a child that his mother took and bedded when it became a man, and a man whose life was shortened by the spearhead of a boar. Where Aphrodite had found love in her twisted justice, Persephone offered peace to a man whose life was made to be twisted.

Eros knew the fates played a dangerous game there.

That’s when it clicked.

His eyes popped open wide with an audible gasp.

“Adonis’s mother!”

“There it is!” Zephyr held up his glass in cheers.

“Oh, shit…” Elbows propped up on the table and a blonde head fell in the palms of shaking hands.

“Mmm-hmm,” his friend hummed as he watched the other God dwell in misery.

A series of curses spat from Eros’s mouth, each falling in the beautiful archaic Greek song that had died long ago. His hands fell away to gaze over at Zephyr.

“How did she get here?”

“Psyche,” Zephyr said simply as he swirled the contents of his glass.

Eros shook his head. “She was turned into a tree.”

“That she was!”

“Psyche doesn’t have the ability to lift curses.”

“Nope!” Swiping a hand over his mouth, Zephyr grimaced at his cup. “I think I got the bottom of the keg.”

“Zephyrus!” Eros snapped his fingers and his friend raised his brow to attention.

“Huh? Oh sorry!” The man giggled. “I think I’m a wee bit drunk!”

The door behind them jostled, smacking the wall and squeaking as it shut. All heads turned before people shouted happily, “Psyche!”

The girl was covered in bandages, but otherwise her ratted clothing had been exchanged for new ones and the dirt and blood had been cleaned off. She looked more refreshed but exhausted nonetheless.

Eros paled when he saw her and wondered if she knew.

Zephyr, either uncaring of his friend’s state of worry or oblivious, twisted in his seat and screamed obnoxiously, “Psyche! Have a drink with me!”

Turning her head, her nose crinkled as she approached their table. She nodded her head to several people as she passed before she stood at the edge of Zephyr’s seat. Tilting her head, she gazed down at him through narrowed eyes.

“Are you drunk already?”

He shook his head. “Yup!”

A small, amused smile formed on the girl’s face. “At least one of us is enjoying ourselves.” She turned to Eros and gestured with her chin at his glass. “What about you?”

“I wish,” he murmured as he rubbed his forehead.

Her brow puckered but her attention was taken by Zephyr who placed his arm around her waist. “Drink with me!” he begged with a grin. “Its been so long since we got drunk together!”

Psyche laughed. “Alright, calm down! I’ll have one. Maybe it’ll ease the ache in my back.”

Zephyr crowed victoriously, and the girl was off towards the bar. As she turned to leave, he called after her, “Psyche! Psyche! Have them change the keg!” His piercing eyes stared after her retreating back before he pouted. “I don’t think she heard me.”

Eros cocked a brow at him and stated more than asked, “Planning on getting my wife pissed?”

“Oh, get off it! You haven’t seen her drunk…” Zephyr’s eyes lit up, the glassy look sparkling. He was rightfully drunk, for sure! He gasped. “You _haven’t_ seen her drunk! You, my friend, are in for a treat!”

“Can we get back to my problem for a moment?”

“Huh?”

Eros scowled at how easily distract Zephyr had become. Had it really been that long since they had sat down and drank together? He had forgotten how incredibly annoying his friend could become under the influence.

“About Myra?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure! Not much I can do about her. She’s a civilian of the colony – one of the originals…”

“No!” Eros rolled his eyes. “Does Psyche know?!”

Zephyr frowned as he turned towards where the girl stood, her mouth moving as she conversed with the barkeep. “More than likely, why?”

“Great,” he sighed.

“Why does that bother you so much? Shouldn’t it be a good thing that it’s out in the open? No secrets!” He shrugged with a goofy grin. “No stupid confessions need to be made!”

The Love God stared flatly at the man in a _don’t-be-stupid_ kind of way.

“Are you worried she’ll think less of you?”

“Wouldn’t you be if it was someone you were madly in love with? I ruined the poor girl’s life and her son is dead because of me.”

“Not because of you!” Zephyr pointed his finger and wagged it. “Your mother is a very jealous witch…”

“That’s still my mother, you bastard!”

“She was the one who put things in motion.”

“I was the one who made the shot. I could’ve said no.”

“And then where would you be?”

Eros opened his mouth to reply, but found he had no words. He frowned. “You’re incredibly insightful for a drunk.”

Zephyr smiled widely. “Aren’t I just?”

“Aren’t you just what?” Psyche asked as she sat down between them, the chair making a horrible screeching noise against the hardwood floor. She winced in embarrassment. “This place needs a serious upgrade.”

“Your dear husband, Eros, was just complimenting my insightfulness,” Zephyr preened, ignoring the glare of the man sitting across from him.

“Not my husband,” she felt the need to correct, avoiding eye contact with the man in question. “And what is this talk about insightfulness?”

Silence covered the table as eyes turned from Zephyr to Eros and back again.

Psyche’s nose crinkled in disgust when she inched her chair closer to the table. “Oh! What is that horrid smell?!”

Zephyr sputtered in laughter as he pointed at Eros who sat with his arms crossed looking furious. “He got pelted by a fish!”

“What?” Her eyes widened as she gazed expectantly at her former lover. “What happened to have caused that?”

“Nothing,” Eros reassured her – a small lie. His eyes shifted to Zephyr who had calmed but was shaking his head and _tsking_ him with his finger for the sin.

“I find that hard to believe,” she stated. “People don’t have fish or other sources of food thrown at them without good reason. Did you provoke someone?”

Mildly offended, his eyes widened. “Why do you assume I did something?”

“I didn’t,” she responded as she took a sip of her drink. “I asked _if_ you did. Why are you so defensive?”

He was perplexed. Never had Psyche ever spoken to him in such a way before, so brazen and bold, without fear or hesitation mucking up her words. She sat there with her back straight, meeting his gaze directly and expectantly. In her eyes, he saw intelligence, authority, and something else he couldn’t quite name.

“Apologies, love,” he offered softly, his features losing their harshness. “Today has been rather eventful and I find myself a bit overwhelmed with all I have discovered.”

Her shoulders loosened, and a hint of her meekness returned. “What have you discovered?”

Zephyr nudged her. “I told him how you built this place from the ground up.”

Horrified, Psyche turned a heated glare on her friend. “Zephyr! Don’t you think that’s something I should be discussing with him, not you?!”

“Whoopsies?” He shrugged innocently.

Angrily, she took her drink and stood. “It is unlike you to be spilling secrets! Perhaps maybe it is you I should be distrustful of?” With that, she walked away from the table, her steps echoing back at them reproachfully.

“Come on, Psyche!” He stood and yelled after her, uncaring of the spectators. “We both know you wouldn’t have told him! He would’ve found out eventually, anyways!”

She flipped him the finger as she slammed her stein down on the bar, the contents spilling. The entrance doors opened and shut with a slam in her retreat. The bar grew quiet as all eyes turned to the wavering God.

“Try and do something nice for that girl and she just throws it in my face,” he complained as he slouched back in the chair.

Across the table, Eros sat rigid.

“What?” Zephyr’s demanded.

The God sighed. “I’m trying to earn her trust and it is incredibly difficult already without you meddling. As much as I want to know everything there is to know about her, I would rather she tell me of her own free will than hear it from you and have her distrust me all over again.” He stood, emptying his glass before carefully setting it back down. “I want my wife back, Zephyrus. Not my friend, or an acquaintance, or an ally. _My wife._ I would be grateful if you’d butt out.”

Zephyr watched as Eros, too, left and he glared at the table as loneliness and bitterness crept in, ruining his buzz in the process.

 

*     *     *

 

Psyche sighed as she stared at the rickety old bed.

It was nothing compared to the bed she had back at her penthouse, but it would have to do. Over the years, Hermes had tried to talk her into an upgrade, but she refused, stating that it wouldn’t be right or fair if she had a decent bed where many others within the colony were still sleeping on the floor of their homes. No, she would ensure everyone had comfort before she sought some for herself. It was only by the threat of Hermes wrath that she even had the bed that was in her room now.

Crossing her arms, she walked to the fireplace and threw a log on the smoldering cinders, seeking warmth in her little shack. She missed the luxuries of electricity, gas, and all the other amenities she had grown accustomed to away from the colony. Alas, what she now had was a reminder of what she had grown up with, serving only to remind her that the world she now lived in was not really hers any longer, but a foreign world so far advanced that sometimes she had trouble understanding it.

It didn’t mean she didn’t love it and all it offered, but as she stared into the flames of the fire at her feet, Psyche couldn’t help but think that she should be dead, rotting in a grave beside her family.

She shivered and rubbed her arms, glaring at the window where the draft blew in, silently cursing the wind and the God who controlled its fury. Psyche hated the constant reminder of why the colony was brought together. It wasn’t for selfless reasons and for a long time, she resented her guardian for it.

Even after all this time, the burden still rested on her shoulders and she didn’t know what to do with it. Two thousand years passed without a single move put into motion – the plan Hermes and Zephyr conjured up all those years ago laying stagnant, collecting dust.

The people of the colony were serving a purpose under the guise that she was helping to unite those who had been wronged. The three who led them were using them and the guilt suffocated her each and every day. She hated the grin on Zephyrs face – seeing him speak so freely, so proudly of her “accomplishments” made her want to vomit. She wouldn’t have done all this if she had known the full truth, but once again, the Gods had proven how distrustful they were.

Manipulative and cunning to the very end.

Did it make her any better than them?

A shadow passing by her window brought Psyche out of her thoughts and she turned away from the fire curiously. Peeling the curtain back, she peered out into the night to see a shapely form walking away from the colony towards the vast field where the crops grew. She watched this person stop near the edge of the field and look around.

It was too dark to make out any features, but by the form alone she knew it was a man. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but quickly he pivoted so that he was facing her direction and fearful of being caught, she pulled herself back and hid by the wall.

Why was she even spying?

And who was it she was spying on?

It was late for anyone to be out trapezing around and those who were resigned themselves to the tavern. Psyche’s place was on the outskirts, away from the ruckus of the towns center where the main attractions where as well as the tavern.

Curious to know who this stranger was, she bravely peeked back out only to screech and jump back when she met the amusing gaze of Eros.

“So, this is where you’re staying,” he mused lightly with a smirk. “Are you spying on me, darling?”

She held a hand to her chest to calm her rapidly beating heart as she glared. “You know, in this day and age, one can never be too careful of who’s walking about late at night. Also,” she pointed at him, “it’s considered creepy to be looking in woman’s window no matter what year it is! What if I was changing?”

He laughed. “You were the one looking in on me.” He paused and tiled his head. “Or is it out on me?”

“What are you doing out there anyways?” She asked as she rested her crossed arms on the sill, looking up at him inquiringly.

He shrugged, his shoulder leaning against the side of her little shack. “Looking for you. You seemed rather upset earlier and I was concerned.”

Her lively expression dimed at the reminder. “Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.” Reaching up, his finger caressed her chin. “Are you alright?”

“That’s a loaded question,” Psyche admitted.

“It can be simplistic,” he told her.

“Not where my life is concerned.”

He nodded. His eyes lingered on her form and Psyche blushed beneath his gaze when she saw a hint of hungry lust in their depths with a touch of intense longing. Pride at how well she maintained her physique helped her to handle her embarrassment of being blatantly ogled. Eros never did hide his affections for her.

Shooting his eyes back up to her face, he asked, “Why didn’t you want me to know?”

Psyche sighed and pushed herself to a stance. “Another loaded question.”

“Will you ever answer a single one I’ve asked?”

She frowned. “If I recall correctly, I answered three earlier.”

“Vaguely and with limitations that I wasn’t pleased with,” he scowled. It made her almost smile, his tone reminding her of a haughty prince unused to getting his way and pouting over it.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Psyche…” There it was again. The reproach in his tone, filled with disappointment, ready to scold her for disobedience. Enough was enough.

“Look, Eros, I’m not going to divulge my life’s story to you. I’m just not.” He opened his mouth to protest, but with a wave of her hand she cut him off. “No. It’s not just about trust. Haven’t you ever wondered that maybe I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done? Maybe I’m ashamed to talk about it?”

It was hard to look at him. Instead of giving her a hard time like before, he cupped the side of her face, sending shivers down her neck and spine. The only thing that separated them was the wall.

“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,” he whispered to her. “You shouldn’t have to carry those burdens alone, though.”

She scoffed. “And yet, they’re mine alone to carry.”

“Is the entirety of this colony yours as well?”

With that, she pulled away from him with a hurt frown. “Don’t.”

His hand dropped. “What you did was admirable.”

“It was stupid.”

Eros’s expression twisted to one of confusion, but instead of pushing the subject, he gestured to the inside of her adobe. “May I come in?”

Caught off guard, Psyche laughed. “You’re asking now? You’ve never asked before!”

He grinned charmingly, and she nearly melted, her thighs almost quivering at the full force of his smile. It was dripping in sex and offering all kinds of dirty promises she at one time in her life would’ve begged to have fulfilled.

But not now.

“Well,” he began, his voice low and rough. “I was seducing you, young and innocent as you were. I never ask when I’m on the pursuit of seduction.”

“The pursuit of seduction?” she repeated with chuckle. “There’s a classy porn title in there somewhere.”

His eyes crinkled. “Are you going to invite me in or not, love?”

She shook her head. “No.”

The smile dropped. “No?”

“Probably not a wise idea,” she admitted with a hint of red covering her cheeks. She was human after all.

A look of smug understanding shot back at her. “I see.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Psyche commanded with firmness.

Dramatically, his eyes widened. “Oh, of course, my lady!” Shoving himself away from the siding of her shack, he glanced over his shoulder before giving her a calculated look. “Well, if you’re not going to invite me in, can I draw you out?”

She hesitated as he offered her his hand and a wicked grin. “Out where?”

“Let’s see where the night takes us,” he said, his fingers beckoning her.

Instinct told her no. It was a bad idea. But in that moment, with his arm outstretched and his playful smile winking at her, she couldn’t come up with any logical reason why she shouldn’t.

So, against her better judgement, Psyche approached the wall that separated them and placed her hand in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I broke 100 kudos! Thank you everyone! And a special thank you to those who have reached out to me on Tumblr! You all are amazing <3
> 
> Below are just a few sites I used regarding the myths and legends you can find in this chapter. 
> 
> (1) The first was concerning Ascalabus who insulted the Goddess Demeter and was transformed into a spotted geko. I changed the myth in this to suit the plot because, well, not all myths should turn out to be true, right?
> 
> (2) The infamous myth about Adonis. There are different variations of this myth, but this is the one I went with. His mother, Myrrha, who is also known as Smyrna (I went with that name for this story and then shortened the first name as her current name) was punished by the goddess Aphrodite for claims of beauty and righteousness. In a fit of rage, she sent her son, Eros, to punish the young girl. The punishment was doled out where Myrrha was shot to fall in love with her father. Lustfully, she slept with him for twelve consecutive nights before he discovered who she was and threatened to have her killed. She ran, fearful for her life, and begged the Gods for mercy, who eventually took pity on her and turned her into a Myrrh tree (or bush in some myths). Later, the tree gave birth to Adonis.
> 
> ###  ** RESOURCES **
> 
> **Demeter's Wrath:** [Greek Legends and Myths / Demeter](http://www.greeklegendsandmyths.com/demeter.html)  
>  **The Legend of Adonis:** [Greek Myths and Mythology / Aphrodite and Adonis](https://www.greekmyths-greekmythology.com/myth-aphrodite-adonis/)  
>  **Myrrha:** [Greek Mythology / Myrrha](https://www.greekmythology.com/Myths/Mortals/Myrrha/myrrha.html)


	14. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eros and Psyche attempt to find solace after their brush with the past.
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> _LIGHT TRIGGER WARNING - LIGHT SEXUAL CONTENT - BRIEF FLASHBACK_  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> _Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own._

#  **Chapter Eleven**

* * *

 

It was exhilarating to feel the wind against her skin, and even more so to float freely above the ground.

Ever since she could remember, Psyche had always wanted her own wings. Envying Eros’s ability to fly, she caressed the feathers that erupted from his back, his arm securing her to him as they took off.

The distance they traveled was short by air, the wards only extending so far, but the land they covered provided them with plenty of privacy to do what they wanted. Softly, Eros landed in the woods near the stream, the waterfall to the right containing several large water wheels with a little house seated at the bottom of the cascade.

“One of our power sources,” she told him when he eyed it curiously. “It doesn’t power the whole village, but those that need it most. If all goes to plan, in a year, we’ll have the entire place modernized.”

At the base of the waterfall a pool gathered, deep and black in the center with the outer edge a vibrant blue and alive with ripples. Psyche watched Eros approach the water with a glint in his eye and before she knew it, his shirt was tugged over his head and discarded.

Blushing profusely, she pivoted on her heel and sputtered out, “What are you doing?!”

The clang of his belt dangling echoed in her ears as he continued to remove his clothes.

“Having a swim,” he stated with an emphasis on _duh_. There was a warm chuckle at her modesty. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

She frowned and crossed her arms. “You’re not suggesting skinny dipping, are you?”

“Mm-hmm,” was all she heard before a splash quickly followed.

Afraid to turn around, she waited and waited, but no noise came after the initial splash of entry. Curiosity warred inside her, and she subtly glanced out of the corner of her eyes to see his clothing lay abandoned on the grass in a heap.

Eyes wide, she twisted back. Yup, naked!

Naked and wet. Naked and oh so glisteningly wet.

_Stop it!_

Water flew at her and she squealed, jumping away.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” He taunted.

“Yes!” She retorted like the stubborn mule she was. It was easier to give him her back instead of providing him with more fuel to tease her with. Her face was burning red with arousal and mortification.

“Suit yourself.”

Her lips pursed in displeasure. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you planned this!”

Eros’s laughter drifted over to her, easing the tension in her back and shoulders. She always did enjoy hearing him laugh. The moment her muscles loosened, she was reminded of how aching and uncomfortable they were from the trek it took to get there, of the wounds she had.

Maybe a swim would be nice?

“Me? Never!” His voice drifted to her teasingly. Drops of water showered her naked calves and she had a hard time containing the shriek of shock. The water was cold! “Are you going to join me or no?”

“No!” she protested vehemently. “And I most certainly have _not_ seen you naked!”

“Psyche,” he caressed her name like his hands had once smoothed down her body. “You have certainly _felt_ my body. What difference does it make?”

Her chest ached with how hard her heart was beating.

“The difference, sir,” she began firmly, “is that we are not married any longer! We do not have the right to see each other in such light.”

“We weren’t married the first time, either,” he declared proudly. “Yet, you still allowed me to take you to my bed.”

Water sloshed about and she saw him swim into her line of vision. Thankfully, his body was masked by the dark, murky water.

Facing him, Psyche narrowed her eyes. “You’re a scoundrel, is what you are.”

“I prefer the term rogue,” he mused with a grin. Lazily he paddled. “Trickster, even.”

“How about wretch?”

Swimming close to the shoreline, the water dipped lower, revealing his smooth, muscular chest now glistening in the moonlight.

“I’ve been called worse.” With the water covering his modesty, he held a hand out to her, beckoning – much like the dream and she felt her heart skip a beat. His fingers waggled invitingly. “Swim with me, love.”

A simple request, one that held more meaning than just a leisurely dip.

She stared at his hand and then pursed her lips. “My bandages,” she argued weakly.

“We’ll redress them later.” He inched forward, his smirk widening when her eyes fell downward to see the top of his treasure trail revealed. “It’s just an innocent swim,” he told her with his hand still outstretched.

“Nothing is innocent where you’re concerned,” she insisted.

His features softened from playful seduction to tender reassurance. “I promise to be a gentleman.”

Seeing her hesitate greatly, Eros sighed and lowered his hand. “Believe it or not, darling, but I did not lure you out here with ulterior motives. I simply wanted us to escape the day and all it had to offer. You have to admit how exhausting this all has been.”

As he said this, the aches in her bones and muscles returned with the reminder of what happened only earlier that day. Yes, it had been long and difficult, and the thought of turning in, closing her eyes, and putting it all behind her sounded appealing by the second. Yet, she was certain the moment her back would meet the mattress – the one that had lost all its comfort ages ago – she would be riddled with pain as the springs would surely poke her already marred skin. This would certainly prevent her precious sleep from whisking her away.

Already, the swelling from her wounds had worsened, the medicine she had been given wearing off as the hours went by. At that moment, she had wished she hadn’t stormed off from the tavern, the beer she had been given was sure to help soothe the foulest of her sores.

Instead, she stared at the calm water, darkened on the surface, and knew that the cold would do away with the worst of her injuries. Her decision had nothing to do with the fact that she would be swimming naked with Eros of all people. It had been a long time since she had been in the intimate company of a man, even longer since it had been Eros himself.

For tonight, she simply needed relief – just not the relief that physical intimacy provided.

Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

“Avert your eyes,” Psyche instructed.

Obeying her command, Eros simply turned his head and closed his eyes. This spoke more than simply giving her his back. He was only acting out of kindness, and although she never had the luxury of seeing him naked, he had seen her. Turning his head and averting his gaze said this was merely a courtesy and if he wanted to conjure the image of her bare form, all he had to do was think of it.

Psyche tried not to focus on that as she began peeling her clothing from her body.

_It’s just a swim. That’s all. You’ve swam before! No big deal!_

The boxer shorts she wore fell to the ground, her underwear and nightshirt following suit moments after. She had no bra – her back too sore to wear one, so she went without. Now completely bare to the world, Psyche approached the water, her eyes shifting from the ground to Eros and back.

As she dipped her toes in, she gasped. “Oh Gods, it’s freezing!”

Eros laughed joyfully. “It’s better to immerse yourself quickly.”

“I’m going to get hypothermia from this, I just know it,” she grumbled before she took in a deep breath and dived right in.

The water was, indeed, freezing as she sliced through it, but despite how cold it was the relief on her wounds was instant. Surfacing, Psyche’s breathe caught in her throat for two reasons. One, because although she was relieved that the pain was reduced, the water had forced her skin to tense, her nipples to pebble into little rocks, and her feet to go numb. As soon as the water was cleared from her vision, her godly ex-lover took up her line of sight and she jolted in surprise.

He was smiling as he floated in front of her, his hair slick back and his eyes sparkling in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time – if ever. He looked gorgeously wicked, like a mischievously handsome water sprite instead of the all-powerful being he was.

Desire warred with instinct as her heart told her to wrap her limbs around him while they floated about – her body suddenly craving the connection of skin-on-skin contact. Instinct, however, suggested she run, the closeness sucking the air away and reminding her of her imprisonment in the brothel all those centuries ago. Without giving away how she felt, Psyche lowered herself in the water until only her head and neck was visible and she kicked her feet as she drifted away from him.

“This feels scandalous,” she said as her hands rowed her backwards while her eyes remained on him.

“Why?” He had turned on his side, pushing himself off from the bottom as he powered towards the center of the pond.

“Are you being purposefully obtuse or are you genuinely asking?” She turned her head, her chin hovering over her shoulder as she watched him.

He cut around, passing close by her before allowing himself to float weightlessly. “Have times changed that much?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Nowadays, with this brilliant invention known as a shower and bathtub, people no longer use streams and ponds to bathe.”

“What about to swim?”

“Swimsuits,” she pointed out as she began to stroke lazily. There was no direction in mind and she noticed they circled each other with some distance.

Baffled, he frowned. “Swimsuits?”

“Mmm.” She nodded. “People wear an outfit while they swim. It’s no longer acceptable to swim naked in the presence of others, especially if they aren’t your husband or wife – or lover. It’s called being conservative.”

“Utterly preposterous,” Eros grumbled in disgruntlement. “This sounds like the world has grown so ashamed of their physical appearance that they clothe themselves to hide who they truly are.”

Psyche chuckled as she cupped some water, attempting to capture a small fish swimming by, and allowed the fluid to pour through her fingers when she failed. “Kind of. With the media takeover – news channels and the internet – people are expected to look a certain way and if they don’t, they _are_ shamed for it.”

“Has that happened to you?” He asked bluntly.

She stopped with her waterplay and glanced over at him cautiously. He was vertical, only his shoulders and up were present, but his features were hard and set in a firm line as if he were angry at the thought.

 _Tread carefully_ , her conscious warned her.

Psyche sighed heavily. “You can’t fault the world completely for how you see yourself. Yes, they influence, but at the end of the day, the only opinion that matters about how you look should be your own.”

He was quiet for a long time, thoughtfulness replacing the intimidating stern look he had adopted only moments ago. When he said nothing in response, Psyche twisted her body and kicked her feet, her fingers reaching out to brush against the few fish that were brave enough to venture close.

It was minutes later when he finally found words.

“You’re really good at that.”

“What?” She peered at him over her shoulder, her finger tucking a few threads of wet hair away to see him better.

Eros was wistful as he hovered in the same spot she left him. “Evading my questions. There was a time when I could read you like a book.”

Her mood soured a bit. “That was during a time when I was meant to obey your every word without question and answer when spoken to. Honesty and submission was my purpose and I wanted to please my husband by being the dutiful wife I had been bred as.”

His wistfulness turned to one of pain and hurt. “Is that what you believe?”

“It’s the truth, is it not?”

“No, it isn’t.” His tone was curt.

She frowned. “We should not be having this conversation. We’re supposed to be relaxing and this will only make things worse.”

“We are, though!” He stated firmly, his eyes sharp. “Do you truly believe that was your only purpose for being with me?”

Psyche said nothing, her silence her answer. She felt trapped and angry that he had flown her to the wards end, the furthest away from the colony. The trek back would be brutal on her wounds if she walked it.

_Bastard! He did this purposefully, I’m sure!_

Well, she reasoned silently, if she had nowhere to run, then she really had no choice.

“Honestly? To this day, I still don’t completely understand why you chose me of all people. Yes, your mother sent you to punish me, but you had so many other options…” She shook her head slowly as she drifted closer to him. “Out of all your choices, you courted me under false pretenses, whisked me away from my family without so much as allowing me a goodbye, hid me like a dirty secret, and married me without ever revealing your identity while offering me pretty lies to satisfy my curiosity!”

Psyche wanted to look away, to avert her eyes because with each word she saw them penetrate his heart like daggers. But they were truth spoken from a place of incredible sorrow and pain that had never healed – only festered.

Resigned, she uttered, “How else am I supposed to think of our time together when it was spent mostly in the cover of darkness?”

Eros’s throat constricted, and his eyes turn to glass – fragile, but clear. “I hurt you that much?”

“Yes!” She licked her lips nervously and looked away for a moment to gather herself. Closing her eyes, she offered, “That’s not to say, though, that I didn’t enjoy our time together. Because I did. I just wish it was under different circumstances – more genuine, at least.”

“More genuine?” His voice echoed with bafflement. “You think my feelings were a farce? I can assure you they weren’t! If they were, would I even be here at all?”

She honestly wasn’t sure, or maybe she was but her stubborn determination prevented her from believing him. The past was filled with too much betrayal and treachery for her to be able to accept pretty words on a whim, no matter how much she wanted to. Her heart wouldn’t let her.

The water rippled close by her and she felt his presence hover to her left. “Did _you_ love _me_ , Psyche?”

Her forehead wrinkled, bemused. “You know I did.”

Wet fingers found her chin and her head was tilted upward, but her eyes, now opened, remained lowered and focused on the dark surface of the water.

“No,” he sighed. “I didn’t. I always wondered, and then when you finally told me, it was too late.” Eros grew somber as he asked, “What about now? Do you still love me?”

Her breath caught. How did she end up in this mess? How could she answer knowing that if she was honest with him, she would give up her power and become vulnerable once again? Although, if she lied, it would only serve to hurt them both, further damaging their already damaged relationship.

What relationship? Did they still have one?

Eros’s fingers smoothed over her jaw until his hand was cupping the side of her face, his thumb stroking the swell of her cheek and caressing the shell of her ear.

“Tell me. If you don’t, if my advances are unwanted, I will leave you be.” Even as he said this, the words were broken with emotion and she knew it killed him to offer such a thing.

But the thought of being left alone for good, being off Aphrodite’s radar for the rest of her natural – unnatural, she corrected – life was _so_ tempting! Could she do that?

No…

Sealing her fate, Psyche met his eyes, their faces only a mere breath apart. “Yes. I still love you, Eros.”

It was like a damn had burst and his control snapped. Her face was framed by both of his hands and before she knew it, his lips were upon hers. Her mind had long forgotten what it was like to kiss Eros – to be kissed by Eros – but her body never forgot. The moment she felt the brush and nip, she melted; her hands wrapping around his wrists as she lost herself in the moment.

This was uncontrolled passion at its finest; a passion that had been suppressed for two thousand years finally exploding. Eros expertly pried her lips apart with his tongue before evading her wet cavern, relishing the moan that escaped her throat. He gave her no room for breath as his hands molded to her skin, sweeping them downwards slowly as he felt her tone body for the first time in eons.

Psyche gasped when he cupped her full breasts and she pulled away as her eyes drifted closed. Her head fell back, giving him an all-out access pass to her neck. Unable to pull himself away, he placed open mouthed kisses down the column of her throat as his fingers found the peaks of her globes and tweaked them.

It had been entirely too long since she felt this kind of touch and her body immediately shivered. She anchored herself to him by fisting his wet hair, her back bending in an arch as his kisses turned to gentle suckling and his hands probed further south.

Water splashed as his large palms cupped the back of her thighs and lifted her up. Instinct forced her to wrap her legs around him, and that’s when things got worse.

As soon as she was settled in his embrace, she felt the familiar poking of his length against her inner thigh and unwillingly, she tensed in fright.

Her eyes opened wide, but instead of seeing the beautiful scenery of the pond surrounded by the waterfall and dense wood, she saw chains connecting her wrists and ankles to the wall. In front of her, a man stood ready and erect as he peeled his _perizoma_ away before taking his rigid length in hand. She could smell the fumes of his odor wafting off him, but she had long grown use to the horrible scent of those who came and went. This one, though, was one of the worst.

Her body was spread, her limbs tightly bound to restrain her movements. She was naked, and her appendages were unbearably sore from fighting against her bonds. Fighting had always proved futile but the day she stopped was the day she would give in and allow death to take her. The bed had dipped, and the smell grew horribly intense. She whimpered when she felt rough, calloused fingers caress her thighs. Looking up, she watched him approach her with ominous intent and she knew there was no way to stop him this time.

He was going to take her.

Forgetting where she was and who she was with, Psyche cried out and shoved at Eros. Her hands came up in protective instinct as she clawed at him and kicked, the water around her erupting in chaos as she lost herself in the awful memory.

_“Get off! Get off me!”_

Eros cried out as she dug her nails into him, her knee landing it’s strike perfectly and making him groan painfully. His amazement at how strong she had become in their time apart was quickly overshadow with deep concern by her sudden distress.

“Psyche, it’s okay! It’s okay!” He attempted to calm her, but it was no use.

Words flew from her mouth, the beautifully ancient, dead language twisted by her screams of misery. With each sentence that fell, his eyes widened in understanding. He had seen this before, this reaction to intimacy, but never had he imagined his Psyche to have ever experienced this part of life.

Startled by her outbursts, he did the only thing he could think of.

His arms corded tightly as he held her too him, his godly strength working against her as he forced her arms between their bodies and her legs to wrap around his waist. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he whispered, “Forgive me,” before carrying her to the beating cascade of the waterfall. There, he dunked them both beneath the pelting water – the air having no affect to its temperature as it frigidness shattered them to the bone.

Immediately, Psyche shrieked before she calmed.

Eros knelt at the foot of the waterfall, holding her close as she collapsed against him in a fit of harsh sobs. His eyes teared up as he listened to her, his hand petting at her hair as he tried to wipe the tendrils away from her face, but it was difficult as she hid it from him. His hand shook with emotion and he peppered the side of her face with gentle kisses, whispering words of comfort he knew was more than likely not reaching her.

Feeling hopeless and at a loss, Eros tightened his embrace and made for the shore.

 

*     *     *

 

The travel back to the colony was filled with a deafening silence.

Psyche kept her eyes averted as a mixture of shame and horror overwhelmed her. How could she let something like that happen? It had been ages since she had a flashback – her recovery had been going almost flawlessly. What had set it off?

She knew what it was – it was her own dirty little secret.

A secret no longer.

As soon as Eros landed, Psyche climbed off his back and headed towards her shack without so much as a word. She felt him following her, but she said nothing as she walked inside and opened the small chest at the foot of the rickety bed. A mass of clothes was strewed about, littering her dusty floor before she pulled free a few items in her frenzy.

Eros watched her with wary regard. The moment he had made it to shore, Psyche had pulled free from him, her arms crossing in front of her to conceal her body from his sight as she turned to gather her clothing. The distance between them was detrimental, the wall that had erected in such a short span of time solidifying into a fortress that appeared unbreakable. It was difficult to witness knowing all these careful moments of coaxing her into a sense of comfort was being unraveled before his eyes.

He needed to stop it – he couldn’t lose her again.

Psyche’s eyes were bloodshot and her face sunken in misery as she held the new set of clothes in her arms. Pivoting on her heel, she made her way back to him, prepared to leave once again, but he blocked her with a steady grip on her upper arms.

“Psyche,” he spoke gently. “We need to talk.”

“I need-need a shower,” she stuttered.

She was shaking uncontrollably, as if she were unbearably cold, but he knew it to be shock. The fact that she avoided his gaze was troubling and he wanted nothing more than to have the defying woman she had grown to become back. This meek, scared girl was not the same person he loved.

“Okay,” he relented. “At least let me come with you. I don’t think you should be alone.”

“But…” She swallowed and bit her lip to keep the sob from forming.

“I’ll sit outside the door.” He refused to back down. Not when he knew she needed someone.

Hesitantly, she nodded and when he drew his arm around her, she flinched, causing him to back up and give her space. Her hands fisted the pile of clothes in her arms and once he was two steps away from her, she darted out towards the bath house.

The bath house was appropriately named – the building itself was larger than most of the outer residences and were equipped with showers, tubs, and a stone sauna. On the outside, beneath an awning was a pile of wood and inside were a series of rooms.

Eros noted how his footsteps echoed, the slapping of his feet vibrating off the walls.

He watched as Psyche went about her task, stopping outside a room that housed a simple shower. She walked down the corridor, and at the far end opened what looked like a metal box planted in the wall. Inside was matches. With them in hand, she made her way to what appeared to be a closet, but upon further inspection was anything but. Inside was a large metal tube with a grate beneath it and ash underneath the grate.

“Can you get me two pieces of wood?” she asked as she dropped the box of matches and knelt before digging her hand into the ash to clear some space.

Eros nodded and ventured back outside to grab two dried logs. He sat them at her feet and observed how she shoved them beneath this strange contraption along with some kindling he hadn’t seen. With a few strikes of the match, the logs went up in flames and she stood with the task completed.

For once, Eros didn’t bother questioning what it was or what it did. His eyes remained on Psyche.

After returning the box of matches back to their rightful place, Psyche disappeared behind the small, thin door. Above and below was enough space that if he talked, he knew she could hear. He approached the wall next to it and slid down until he was sitting.

Beyond, clothing shuffled and was removed, feet slapped against the stone and tile, and a crank turned with the sound of pumping. It was quickly followed by a creak of a handle being twisted and he winced from the pitch of the noise. The sound of an endless spray filled the silence and he rested his head back against the wall as he listened to her shower, unsure of how to broach this incident with her.

He cleared his throat, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly over the coarse of several minutes before he finally settled with her name.

“Psyche?”

She said nothing for a short while and he thought briefly that she hadn’t heard him.

“Yes?” her quiet voice filtered back.

He paused. “Did I hurt you back there?”

Another stretch of silence. He wanted so much to be in there with her, to gauge her reactions, to hold her and ease her pain.

“No.”

“But you were hurt.”

“Yes.”

Closing his eyes, Eros clenched his jaw. This was new territory. He had seen this with other women, but he avoided it all together. Comforting a traumatized woman was not something he always did, Love God or no.

“If I didn’t hurt you, then who did?”

A sniffle and a shaky breath had him fisting his hands until his knuckles were protesting, and his palms nearly bled. When she didn’t respond, he turned his head toward the door.

“Psyche?”

Her sob broke through the barrier of the door, muffled by the sound of the shower. He sat there, listening to her cry until it became too much. Climbing to his feet, he announced, “I’m coming in, love.”

She offered no sound of protest as he opened the door and the sight that greeted him had his stomach reeling. Bundled in a heap on the floor of the shower was Psyche, curled inward with her arms wrapped around her legs and her face buried in her knees. Uncaring of getting his clothes wet, he opened the shower and hopped in, taking her in his arms with her body seated between his legs.

Psyche turned in his embrace and wept into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her words hardly audible.

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, Eros rocked her. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Neither did you! I shouldn’t be like this! I was better! I was coping fine!” She cried out angrily. “I was enjoying it! And then…” she trailed off, leaving the words to hang in the air.

Rubbing her arms up and down and smoothing her wet hair from her face, he asked reluctantly, “Who hurt you?”

“They’re dead, Eros.”

“They?” He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. “It was more than one?”

She stiffened when she realized exactly what she had said.

“Do you remember their names?” Dead or not, he could pay them a visit. Hades owed him a favor, after all.

“I didn’t know all of their names, but I’ll never forget their faces.”

“I should’ve been there,” he said doleful.

“You couldn’t have been,” she told him with a flat chuckle.

“I didn’t try hard enough.”

“Don’t!” she snapped. “Don’t make this any worse by beating yourself up over things you had no control over!”

He fell quiet. She was right. He wasn’t helping but berating himself on his faults. He knew what he should’ve done, and he failed. Now was the time to make up for it. So, Eros held her as she wept, the time drawing on unnoticed. He wasn’t sure how long they sat in the shower or when she had calmed, but eventually Psyche pushed gently on his chest.

Eros pulled away and assessed her.

Her eyes were rimmed red and swollen, her irises glasses and bloodshot. Her dark hair was flattened against her face from the force of the water and her hands were pruned. With her knees still folded against her body, he couldn’t make out anything else – her nudity covered. He was sure this was purposeful.

Psyche rubbed at her nose, looking beaten down as she sat there.

“I need to get clean,” she told him.

He nodded.

When he didn’t move, she stared at him purposefully. “Would you mind waiting? Outside?” The question was spoken with heavy reluctance, like she was unsure whether having him leave was right for her own state of mind, but the fact that she asked said enough.

Eros reached to comb her hair from her face, but his hand faltered when she shifted her frightened gaze. Right. Touching wasn’t appropriate right now. He was lucky he had been able to hold her.

Or maybe it was because he had prepared her?

He wasn’t sure.

So, he stood. His clothes sloshed, his shoes squeaking as he left the shower. “I’ll be right outside this door.” He knocked his knuckle on the wood in gesture.

His heart hurt when Psyche looked up at him, her expression wounded and vulnerable, like a fawn who had discovered its mother had died and didn’t know what to do. Closing the door was the only thing he could rightfully think of; giving her the space she needed while providing the distance he needed to keep him from darting inside and taking her in his arms again.

Uncaring of his soiled state, he leaned against the wall and listened to her move within the shower. A sense of relief overcame him knowing she wasn’t sitting there absorbed in her misery alone. Water thudded against the floor, indicating she was washing herself and Eros felt himself relax minutely.

With his eyes trained on the wall in front of him, he tried to think of ways he could help her in this situation. He came up incredibly short as a single word repeated in his mind.

Rape.

She had been raped.

His wife, touched unwilling by another man – men, he had discovered. He had so many questions, so much rage inside him that needed to be quelled with a good beating. How long had this went on? When had it happened? Who did it? Why did it happen? How did she escape? How did she get capture? It was endless and plaguing.

The questions only served to fuel his rage and in doing so, he could feel his anger turn in a direction that would only harm the situation more. He needed to keep calm – for her.

So, he focused on the cracked wall in front of him, his eyes following the line along to its end and back again. As he did this, he reminisced, racking his brain to think of something.

And then, his mouth opened.

“Psyche? Do you remember when we first started courting?”

There was some shifting and he could practically hear the wheels turning in her head.

“Yeah,” she responded softly.

A small smile pulled at his lips. “Do you remember when I stole all the flowers from the market?”

He envisioned the frown as she attempted to remember what he was talking about.

“You mean the lady who slapped my wrist for giving the orphan girl a rose without paying?”

“Yes,” he chuckled lightly.

A small lit up her voice. “I remember waking up to find my room filled with bouquets of lilies, poppies, roses, and baby’s breath. It smelled wonderful, but my handmaidens couldn’t even fit into the room to help me dress without knocking one of them over.”

“I saw,” he chuckled. “They were quite baffled.”

“Baffled?” she commented with a huff. “I was scolded for it, if you recall. The woman tried to accuse me of thievery. It was only her ignorance that saved her – she didn’t know I was the princess. My father paid her for her stock.”

“She deserved it,” he smirked in fondness. “No one should’ve struck you. You were being kind to that little girl.”

He heard her hum. “They didn’t see it that way. That woman was trying to make a living and I was oblivious to it by just taking what I should’ve paid for.”

“You can’t put a price on kindness,” he said softly.

“Everything has a price,” he heard her murmur quietly.

This wasn’t going how he expected.

Clearing his throat, he began, “Do you remember what you said to your father?”

She chuckled. “I said it was the invisible man who was courting me! He did it, not I!”

Eros laughed deep and joyfully. “Did you really believe he would’ve bought that?”

“No.” Psyche’s voice sounded lighter. “But it was more for me than it was for him, even though it was the truth. I had to let you know somehow that I knew what you were doing.” She sighed. “You were always so mischievous. Always getting me in some kind of trouble.”

“It never failed to make you smile, though.”

The shower turned off and her feet slapped against the floor. “Um…” her voice filtered back to him unsurely. “Eros?”

He poked his head up and glanced back at the door. “Yes?”

“…I forgot a towel…”

It was said with complete absurdity, and he could imagine her standing there naked as she stared at the empty racks with irritation. His eyes widened, and his lips twitched before he erupted in laughter.

“It’s not funny!” Psyche scolded. “How am I supposed to dress when I’m wet?”

“Air dry?” he offered unhelpfully as he chuckled.

She huffed. “I’ll be in here forever if I do that!”

Picking at his wet clothes, he announced, “Well, I’d offer you my shirt to dry off with, but as you know…I, myself, am soaked.”

She paused. “Right.” The knob to the door twisted and he looked up to see her head poking out, but the rest of her body was out of sight. She gestured to a door down the way. “Could you look in there and see if someone might’ve left something?”

It was hard not to linger on the naked view of her shoulder, but he managed as he reminded himself that he had _just_ gotten her calmed and distracted. It wouldn’t do to remind her of her horrible past by gawking at her with lust and it was best if she dressed quickly than remain bare for the next hour while she dried. He wouldn’t be able to handle it.

So, Eros raided the mostly empty closet. His nose crinkled at some of the dirty items left behind, disgusted by their smell. Shoving them away, he scanned what little there was and fell across a thin, shredded towel that looked to be on its last life. It would have to do.

He pulled it free and carefully shook it out before bringing it to her.

“Careful, it may unravel before you’re done with it,” he warned.

She gave him a smile of thanks and disappeared back inside.

Eros sighed and glanced down at his own body. His clothes had stopped dripping, but now they were cooling, and he could feel the chill settled in his bones. He needed to change as well. It would have to wait until he saw her back to her place.

 

*     *     *

 

“You look uncomfortable.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Eros shrugged. They were approaching her door and he noticed her eyes shifting to him every few minutes. Gods didn’t get cold easily, but he wouldn’t deny that wearing wet clothes wasn’t pleasant.

“I’ll be fine, Psyche.”

She frowned as she pushed the door open to her little shack. “I feel responsible.”

“You’re not.”

“But I am.” They lingered in the doorway and Eros could feel the warmth from the hearth. Psyche glanced at the fire still lit and bit her lip. “You could… maybe…dry your clothes in here?”

The offer was genuine, but reluctant, the same thought floating through both of their minds. Was it even a good idea? Would it help? Should she just go to bed and let him take care of it himself? Was she further punishing herself by taking the responsibility for the state he was in?

Eros had to ask. “Are you sure that’s something you can handle?”

Psyche bristled. “I can handle anything!”

He held up his hands in surrender. “That’s not what I meant, love. I just…” He sighed heavily. “I don’t want to overwhelm you any further. Perhaps I should just go back to Zephyrs.”

She frowned and looked away from her. Her hand came up and rubbed at her arm nervously. “You asked earlier if we could spend the night together.”

Eros cringed with guilt. “I did, but we don’t have to. I was pushing, and I shouldn’t have. You tried to warn me that things happened, that you needed time, but I didn’t listen – I didn’t understand. Now I do.”

She appeared to shrink into herself at the reminder of her freak-out. He knew, that much was clear.

“I…”

“Don’t,” Eros interrupted. “I won’t pressure you into talking about it. I trust you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

Psyche turned her head to stare at him in shocked disbelief and awe. A wave of emotions crossed her face, and she licked her dry lips as she battled with indecision. Finally, after some silence, she pushed away from the doorframe and approached him, her arms crossed in front of her protectively.

“What if I am ready to talk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys...This story is already over 200 pages long and we're not even at the climax! Why do I do this to myself?! Oh well, hope you guys are enjoying and thank you to those who reached out to me on Tumblr! I really love hearing from you all! Keep it coming, if you don't mind! <3 Love ya'll!!


	15. Interlude: The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new visitor introduces himself to Psyche, who later finds herself forced into a difficult situation.
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> **SOFT TRIGGER WARNINGS - MENTIONS OF SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND INTENTIONS**
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> _unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. Also, I know you all were waiting for the "Great Secret Reveal" but that's just not how I work. This is a slllloooowww burn for a reason._

# Interlude: The Journey

* * *

_—approximately 2,000 years ago_

Psyche wasn’t sure whether she should’ve been wary or skeptical.

Making it out of Greece was easier said than done and the moment Hermes showed up, she knew there was a slim chance of her and Zephyr high-tailing it anywhere. Her mission had been tasked to her with an overwhelming sense of purpose, duty, and obligation. She wasn’t the least bit happy about it; the plan was filled with secrets, holes, and stunk of betrayal.

The situation seemed entirely too questionable, but as she started to refuse, Hermes made mention one crucial thing: there were others like her – many others – wrongfully punished, spending eternity drifting or left in a state of limbo and in need of solace and retribution. It struck her deep, penetrating her soul in a place she had forgotten existed. Spending three hundred years in a brothel, being used as another’s source of comfort and pleasure, did that to a person.

But as time passed and years rolled by of her and Zephyr wandering the countryside, she had begun to explore the fact that perhaps she wasn’t as truly numb as she initially thought. Psyche had a deeper understanding of the pain of mortality than anyone could comprehend; the constant reminder of her mortal life now extended as the things that mattered were robbed of her lingered by her side. It was now her companion, her loyal friend. She would use her pain as her motivation along this journey she was on. At least, that’s what she told herself.

It was a lie.

Days came and went when it became too much. Nothing seemed to counteract the feeling that overwhelmed her, the questions that plagued her endlessly. As a decade blinked away, Psyche turned her attentions to other means; music performed from a crudely made lyre, herbology for medicinal purposes, and learning self-defense at Zephyrs instance, but nothing worked to distract her.

It was while her and Zephyr were hiding near the coastline on the border of Korinthía that Psyche had reached the pinnacle of her situation. The thought of death often plagued her mind; was it still possible for her to die? She never knew, but always wished for death to claim her. Unfortunately, her silent prayers always fell on deaf ears.

This day, though, was different.

Zephyr had disappeared again. They made a small home in the woods, a little cabin secluded away from civilization, but close enough that trade could be utilized if necessary. While alone, Psyche had wandered down to the shoreline, her feet bare and sinking into the cool sand. The sky was a gray overcast of angry clouds and dreary promises of a wet future. It didn’t bother her, for it matched the storm inside.

Fear of being left to her own devices had vanished quickly when the question popped up once more.

Could she still die?

She eyed the watery ruckus in the distance with a despairing frown. The last time she had willingly been on the beach, Eros had sat behind her, cloaked in darkness, the warmth of his body keeping the cool air at bay. It was one of the rare nights they didn’t make love but instead allowed conversation to fill their time. Talking with him had been an experience unmatched by anything, even sex.

He had the mind of a scholar and the heart of a poet. Thinking back on it now, she felt foolish at not having discovered who he was from the very beginning, but at the same time she couldn’t bring herself to regret those moments of intricacies and intimacies. Eros made her feel safe and welcomed despite being his little secret, despite the longing of seeing her family, of knowing who her husband was.

She was both lonely and not while with him.

Now, Psyche felt even more alone than ever. Her family was long since dead, her womb empty and vacant of the child she once carried, stolen from her by it’s divine grandmother. Her husband had abandoned her and all the Gods – _most of the Gods_ – turned a blind eye to the meek, mortal woman that once snared the heart of the Love God. No easy feat, one that she wrecked beautifully and regretted ever since, and with time, resented not only herself but those she had once worshipped too.

Staring into the waves, she wondered what it would be like for the water to hug her body and pull her under. There was a time she would fear Poseidon and his many daughters discovering her frolicking in the sea, but what more could be done to her? What more did she have left to lose?

 _What about the others_ , a small voice whispered in the back of her mind. _The other immortals are counting on you. Hermes said Greece will fall. You must help them!_

If Greece was doomed, though, then wouldn’t it be a courtesy to let them all perish with the rest? Merciful? A nasty thought, one Psyche had paled in abashed horror when it first came to her, but now it didn’t bother her to think of it. It was a reasonable question that deserved a reasonable answer.

Would it be kind of her to take her life and watch from the sanctions of Tartarus, or would she be gifted with Elysium and spared the tragedy that would become her home?

As she pondered, her feet brought her closer to the water’s edge, the tide lapping at her feet in greeting. She stared down as her toes disappeared in the sand and reappeared as the water pulled back. Would her death be as gentle as this?

“Careful, girl, the tide is strong with the coming storm,” a voice announced from behind her.

Frightened, Psyche jumped and pivoted to find an elderly man hunkered over on a crudely made cane, his back humped and painful with age, but his eyes youthful and kind. Unable to relax at the sight of the frail looking creature, she took a step back, putting herself further into the water.

“Desolation does not fit your beautiful face, my dear,” he complimented from where he stood. “What ails you?”

She frowned and swallowed heavily. “Ailments imply that they can be fixed and overcome. I don’t believe whatever I have is capable of such remedies.”

“Everything can be rectified,” he spoke wistfully with a gentle smile. “Even death can be reversed.”

Psyche scoffed, eying the strange man as if he had spoken crazy. “Death is permanent. Nothing can change it.”

“Are you so certain?” he asked as he pressed his cane forward, his feet bringing him closer.

She didn’t move; she felt frozen in place.

“Yes. If it wasn’t, many loved ones would be alive and well right now and grief wouldn’t exist.”

“Ah,” he exclaimed with a bright smile, his finger lifting skyward. “You misunderstand. Nothing can truly die, for the soul is everlasting and immortal. Grief is a natural human emotion; beautiful and lush with pain and empathy. For there to be life, there must be a journey of pain. For there to be death, grief will greet you like an old friend and thus, easing the pain. But like pain can be, grief, death, and life are all temporary commodities.”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand at all, actually.”

He simply smiled and clasped both hands on the head of his cane. Shaking his head, he gazed at her with a look of grandfatherly adoration. “No, you wouldn’t right now, I suppose. Your life has both just begun and ended all at once. You are truly a marvel, Psyche!”

Psyche stiffened, her heart thumping hard in her chest. This man knew who she was.

“Did Aphrodite send you?” she questioned timidly, cutting straight to the point.

The elderly man only chuckled and shook his head. “No, my dear. No one sent me. I’ve had my eye on you for a long while.”

Fear swallowed her whole. “Who are you?”

Looking off into the distance, he squinted his eyes as a breeze rolled in. Psyche’s wet skirt ruffled in the wind, her hair a mess of black as it escaped the loose braid she had place it in earlier that morning. It had gotten to be so long now, so unruly and uncooperative.

Just as he shifted his eyes away, he peered back at her with a sharpened gaze. His look of unfiltered adoration wasn’t tempered by anything, in fact it intensified into something more akin to obsessive curiosity.

“I’m no one,” he answered vaguely.

Psyche frowned. “I find that hard to believe. Everyone has a name and as you’ve clearly demonstrated, you know mine. It seems only fair that I’m granted the same courtesy.”

His eyes hardened. “Is it courteous? Truly?”

She bristled and straightened her spine, adorning the façade of a princess. “Yes! You know my name and I haven’t told you it! I’d like to know of my accoster, if you would?”

The kindness shifted into sternness. “Accoster isn’t very polite. In fact, I believe I have just saved your life from a watery death. Tell me, beloved of Eros, is it courteous to take the life that was so preciously granted to you – throwing it away in order to escape the journey you were meant to travel? Do you deem your destiny such a burden you are willing to attempt to end your existence because of it?”

Her firm demand melted away in to shock. Her mouth fell open and she blinked several times, a processing mechanism that malfunctioned with her growing fright. Unable to hide it any longer, she stuttered out, “W-what are you? You are no God…”

“No,” he declared as he crept closer. “I am the thing Gods fear. Even Hades himself has an aversion to me, despite the fact he and I work for a similar cause.”

She trembled but was rooted to the spot as he stood just a foot away from her. When he raised his hand, she flinched and gasped audibly, believing him ready to strike her down. His palm was out, and his fingers beckoned her.

“Come away from the water, my dear.”

Staring at his hand, Psyche refused to move. “Are you going to kill me?”

He laughed joyously. “You fear death now even though moments ago you were so ready to die?” Clicking his tongue, the old man shook his head. “No, I’m not going to kill you.”

“I don’t trust you,” she spoke harshly.

“I don’t blame you,” he replied matter-of-factly. “And you shouldn’t. But now isn’t the time for us to be so well acquainted. A delicate balance has been disrupted because of you and yours, and my brothers and I have been called to deal with the mess.” His features shifted, hardened. “Frankly, Psyche, we are not pleased with the trouble you have caused.”

She bristled, ignoring his still outstretched hand. “I don’t even know who you are and yet you blame me for something I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Please, darling, feigning ignorance at a time like this isn’t wise.” He took a step closer, sure to be in the tide, but when Psyche glanced down, the water avoided his dry feet.

She gawked and glanced behind him to find that there were no footprints in the sand and she pointed. “How-how are you doing that?”

“I told you, I am no one,” he declared. “The water and sand do not know I am here, as it should be.”

“You speak in riddles.”

“And tongues,” he grinned. Gesturing with his hand, he wiggled his fingers. “Please, come out of the water. I will not harm you.”

Psyche hesitated greatly, casting a look over her shoulder at what would’ve been her grave – if she were capable of death – before heaving a sigh and placing her hand in his. It was ice cold to the touch and his grip was surprisingly strong for someone so fragile looking. His face lit up and he turned his body, escorting her away from the rolling waves.

“Better,” he nodded.

“You’re cold,” she observed as she followed.

“Am I?” he mused with a knitted brow. “Well, spending as much time as I do away from the mortal world – away from life – will make one cold.”

Psyche stared at him, committing his weathered appearance to memory. If she were at a market, she would assume him to be a beggar. His hair was stark white, his clothes ratty and torn, and his skin wrinkled and pale. He looked harmless. But it was his eyes that told a different story.

In their depths, something sinister toiled away, something incredibly old and wise. He had the appearance of a harmless man, but she could smell the danger reeking off him.

“Gods fear you?” she asked quietly as he brought her to the lining of the trees, far enough away from the temptation of the call of the sea. “Why do Gods fear you? You are an old man.”

He smiled and released her. “Have you learned nothing in the last three hundred years? Your husband came to you in the guise of a winged monster, but he has the appearance of an ordinary mortal.”

Understanding shone. “This isn’t what you look like.”

He shook his head. “No.” Tapping the end of his cane into the sand, he stated, “Someone who is as beautiful as you should also learn how to blend in, if you are to continue this journey. I fear you have a long way ahead of you.”

Psyche frowned as she shook her skirt out. “You speak like a prophet. Are you?”

“No. You may guess all you like, but I can assure you, you won’t be correct.”

She nearly scoffed. “You claim you’ve been watching me. Why? What interest am I to a creature who will not identify itself? I must be honest, I have had enough of higher beings withholding their identity from me.”

The man brightened, her harsh tone causing him to only smile amusingly. “But I have told you exactly who I am! I’m not withholding my identity!”

“You said you are no one!”

“Exactly.”

Her brow knitted painfully. “Are you suggesting you have no identity?”

“I have no name,” he explained. His hand, old and bony, rose to smooth down his face and cup his chin. The action was odd, as if he was reassuring himself of the skin he wore. “I am so ancient that a name means nothing to me, or my brethren.”

“But—”

He held up a palm to silence her. “I wish we had time to discuss everything within that gorgeous mind of yours, Psyche, but alas, we do not. I am here to warn you.”

As he said this, the wind blew a heady gust and rustled her hair and skirt once more. It disturbed the sand and forced her to squint her eyes. She heard a hum.

“It seems your guardian is almost here. I must be gone before he arrives, so listen close, dear.” Then, as quick as lightning, he reached out and grasped her elbow in a tight grip and pulled her to him. His fingers dug into her skin, his strength masked by the elderly appearance he wore. He was strong, painfully so.

Psyche didn’t have time to cry out. He was already speaking, his tone hushed.

“You do not have time to dally with your companion. You must locate the other immortals and get out of Greece before the winter frost.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

He shook her steadily. “The rage that follows you is distracted. Have you not heard of the rumblings of the war within the city of Troy this last decade?”

Swallowing heavily, she shook her head, feeling young, naïve and incredibly stupid. He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Stupid girl! You were warned!” he scolded deeply. “Nearly ten years ago, the herald himself said so! Find the immortals and seek refuge away from Greece before this irreparable war brings the end to all Grecians!”

“H-how am I…?”

He released her, giving her a shove in the direction of her cabin. Gone was the kind old man. His eyes were now hard, dead, and incredibly old – so unfathomably old that it was hard to meet them.

“If I gave you all the answers, it would make your journey pointless, wouldn’t it? Do what you’ve been tasked and when we meet again, I hope to see you’ve chosen right and smartened up.”

“Psyche?!” someone yelled in the distance.

She turned towards the voice instinctually, recognizing the distressed, alarming cry of Zephyrus. When she pivoted back, the man who had claimed to save her from the call of the sea was no longer there.

 

*     *     *

 

Psyche said nothing to Zephyr when she returned.

Pale as she was, she refused to speak on the matter, instead listening intently to his confirmation of the rumblings from Troy. To say she was surprised to hear of the role Aphrodite played in the war would’ve been a lie. Her hands fisted at her sides as she watched her guardian move about the cottage, gathering their delicate belongs without prompting her of their departure.

“Hermes waits for us by the river,” he told her. “We must be quick. Zeus has nearly lost his mind with this damned war and the longer Hermes remains absent, the more suspicious he becomes.”

Psyche gnawed on her bottom lip. “Will Aphrodite be punished?”

It was hard to keep the hopeful tone quiet.

“No,” he answered as he took her hand and pulled her from the cottage.

She was outraged as she shuffled along behind him. “I do not understand! She committed treason! She broke the ban and went to Helen!”

“Yes, but Zeus attempted to use this war to remedy his own mistakes. He will not punish his favorite child because then his own accounts will be called into question.”

Psyche huffed a breath as she tried to keep up with his quick steps. Wiggling her wrist, he released her, and she sighed with relief. Being manhandled twice in one day was more than anyone could handle.

Carefully rubbing the area, she murmured, “Zephyr? What’s going to happen?”

In the distance, they could hear the trickle of water. The woods became denser and the seascape had disappeared. The salty scent in the air was replaced with heavy plant life.

Zephyr peeked at her quickly. It took him a moment to answer. “Hermes was right. Because of this, Greece is doomed.”

 _That old man was right too_ , she thought.

“So, we leave,” she stated. “We find the others and leave.”

That made him pause. He pivoted to face her. “I thought you were against it?”

She phased past him, unable to bring herself to face the full extent of her feelings at the moment. “I’d rather help them than allow innocent, good people to fall victim to this unruly, childish act made by the damned Gods!”

The breaking of twigs indicating he was following her. “Not all of them are good,” he admitted. “Some are criminals.”

“It matters not, now,” she mumbled. “For all intents and purposes, am I not a criminal too?”

“Psyche…” he admonished. “There’s a difference between a mistake and intelligible intent.”

She rounded on him, eyes ablaze and wide. “I was of sound mind when I held the dagger to his throat! Do not soften my mistakes, for I knew what I did. I had planned to steal his life, monster or not! A murderer is a murderer!”

Zephyr looked pained by this. “He is every bit as wrong,” he countered. “And you did not make the final blow, did you?”

Psyche’s jaw ticked before she shook her head and allowed the subject to drop. There was no point in arguing. They simply didn’t have the time.

Soon, they came upon the river and on the other side, Hermes emerged, pristine but grim looking.

“We must hurry,” he declared.

Crossing the water, Zephyr held onto Psyche to ensure she wouldn’t fall before he held out his hand. “The parchment, if you would.”

Hermes eyed the forgotten princess as he produced a rolled-up piece of old parchment and Zephyr snatched it from his hand. He nodded.

“We’ll take care of this. You have something a little more pressing to do.”

Surprisingly, the herald glared as he stepped away, prepared to depart. “You and I will be having a lengthy discussion after this is all over, my friend.”

Psyche shuddered at his tone and looked questioningly at Zephyr. He was stone-faced as he tucked the paper away.

“Lady Psyche,” Hermes called to her.

Turning back, she saw him giving her a look of deep concern, an expression that didn’t fit the witty nature he always adopted. The serious undertone was intimidating.

“Be cautious,” was all he said. “I will see you both soon.” With that, all that was left from where he stood was a gust of dirt as the God made his departure so quick, she didn’t have time to respond.

Beside her Zephyr huffed disgruntled, muttering beneath his breath a series of curses and inaudible grumbles she couldn’t quite understand. As he turned to leave, Psyche reached out to grab his elbow.

“Zephyr?”

“Psyche, we do not have the time,” he began.

“You will explain the tension between you two!” It came out like a demand, but it was a plea, her voice breaking as her fear finally bubbled to the surface.

He groaned and faced her with every emotion on his face akin to a child being forced to explain their reasoning for causing trouble.

“Hermes and I got into a bit of an argument back on Olympus. It is nothing. We need to leave now. There are too many we must find, and our window of opportunity continues to close by the second!” He gestured for her to follow as his feet, thus, carried him away.

Psyche watched him go with wide eyes before she kicked into gear.

“An argument?” she asked breathlessly when she caught up to him.

“Hm,” he answered as he pulled the parchment out to read.

His lack of response made her suspicious. “Was it about Troy?”

“Psyche,” Zephyr sighed.

“Me, then?”

Lifting his fingers, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What would you like me to say?”

She was soft in her reply. “I just want to understand what’s going on. I can’t do anything without knowing everything!”

“Not entirely true,” he muttered.

“You asked me to trust you,” Psyche told him, stopping near a group of bushes. He turned so his body was angled towards her. “You gave me an oath and in return, I trusted you to be honest with me. To be my friend.”

With thinned lips and a scowl, Zephyr looked away angrily. “Unfortunately circumstances call for hard decisions to be made. Is it wise to be truthful or is it better to protect someone from the truth knowing in the end things may eventually work out for the better?”

That hurt. “I would rather have the truth,” she spoke.

Instead of responding, Zephyr shook his head and continued on, offering no resolution and no reassurance. Teary eyed, Psyche hesitated to follow, but she knew she had no choice.

She hadn’t had a choice in a long while.

 

*     *     *

 

First it was Narcissus they discovered.

Filled with arrogance and self-love, the man had scorned Aphrodite, turning away all prospects who sought him a potential match. In return for his insolence, the Goddess banished him to a field caked with yellow flowers where he lay still as the tendrils of the plant grew around him and made him one with the Earth. The field was beautiful when Psyche and Zephyr discovered it; every corner was spotted with daffodils, freckled with yellow and white.

In the center was Narcissus himself.

The man was of great beauty but having been forced to lay within the garden for nearly one hundred years, his life sustained by both the sun, the nutrients of the plants, and the curse that held him, he looked completely withered like the delicate flower he had become.

Psyche had stood over him and their eyes met.

“Beautiful,” he murmured quietly.

She eyed his body as it lay motionless and her eyes crinkled with sympathy. “Beauty is atrocious,” she replied. “Isn’t that what got you into this mess?”

His lips twitched, but the smile wouldn’t come forth. “You know of me? I am not surprised.”

“Your name fits you, Narcissus. Of course, I have heard of you. Why do you think I’m here?”

“Many questions come to mind, but one seems more pressing than all others.”

Her brow furrowed. “Yes?”

“Am I still handsome? I have not looked upon myself in so long.”

Her face fell, and she looked up, peering at something out of his sight before she disappeared from his view. Then, another face emerged, toned, hard, and stern.

“Enough of your damned foolishness,” Zephyr commanded as he crouched.

Narcissus sneered. “Come to gloat, _Divine Zephyrus_? It seems fitting for a God to prance someone of great beauty before me knowing I cannot move and compare them to my own!”

The God rolled his eyes. “Have you learned nothing this last century? Even bound as you are, you still have the spite of your youth.”

“It will never go away!” the man bellowed as he tried to move. He groaned when the vines tightened in strength and pressed into his skin.

“Zephyr, you’re distressing him!” The soothing voice of Psyche scolded. “We’re here to help, not to make things worse.”

Looking up, he shrugged innocently. “He started it,” he claimed with a pout.

The sun that was beaming down on Narcissus was blocked as Psyche came back into view, her body bent as she hovered over him. “You will only make it worse the more you move. Patience – we will free you.”

He huffed and shifted his eyes up to hers. “I’m afraid, my sweet, that nothing can free me from this accursed field except Aphrodite herself. I am surprised you were able to make it within the billowy flowers without her notice.”

She smiled down at him. “Fortunately, there are things even a goddess does not know.”

Zephyr shifted as he took the parchment and then lifted Narcissus’s finger. Quickly, he pricked the tip so a drop of blood would emerge and he smudged it onto the parchment before disappearing.

“Eh!” the man snarled in protest. “My finger, you ogre!”

Psyche knelt down in the grass. “Language, sir. That’s no way to speak to someone who is trying to free you.”

Laying his head back, he felt rightfully scolded and couldn’t understand why. Gazing up at the beauty next to him, he squinted at the yellow aura she emitted from the sun behind her. “Who are you?”

Watching Zephyr work, his hands carving into the ground some foreign symbol, she sighed heavily. “My name’s Psyche.”

“Psyche,” he repeated. “I have heard of that name.”

Looking away with a forlorn expression, she replied, “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Licking his dry lips, he eyed her body, admiring her thin waist, small breasts, and olive complexion. Her hair was unbelievably long and braided to the side so that it hung over her shoulder, the dark threads framing her petite face. Her eyes were big and expressive, her mouth taut and pulled, and her physique ramrod straight as one of nobility bred.

“Hmm,” he hummed, coming to a conclusion fast.

She gazed down at him curiously. “What?”

If he could shrug, he would. “You are quite beautiful.”

Her brow lifted. “Yes, you’ve mentioned.”

“Women tend to love that compliment, especially coming from me.”

“I am not most women.”

“No, which leads me to the conclusion that you have had a nasty run in with a certain goddess and have thus forsaken your beauty.”

Her expression turned flat. “You deduced this all so shortly?”

He grinned pompous. “It is written all over you. Aphrodite got her claws in you as she did with me.” His grin vanished as he stated, “Only you seem to have gone through much worse than I. It is clear in your eyes, the pain she invoked. Your soul is lost – there’s no denying she stole it from you. She’s quite good at it.”

There was a thrumming akin to a heartbeat within the earth and it pulled Narcissus’s attention away for a moment. Psyche, as much as she should’ve been interested in the workings of freeing him, could only stare at the man by her knees – a feeling of self-loathing worming through her intensely. She had been so good at hiding it, but he had seen right through her; he could see the awful things Aphrodite did to her.

She would have to endeavor to hide it better.

 

*     *     *

 

Following in rapid succession were Smyrna and Ascalabus.

The painful process of relieving Smyrna from the confines of the tree had been brutal to watch and Psyche was unable to keep the tears from shedding. The woman had fallen to the ground once freed, her legs crumbling beneath her as a deafening cry left her throat. Unable to withstand the agony this woman was in, the forgotten princess immediately embraced her as Narcissus and Zephyr watched on helplessly.

The woman did not warm to any of them at first – her distrust of the Gods made her suspicious of Zephyrs involvement, but Psyche did her best to abate the doubt. When Ascalabus joined their ranks, Smyrna’s hard exterior began to crumble at the sight of the frail and mad being. Her motherly instincts kicked in and soon, the withered man began to show life once more.

It wasn’t until they discovered Harmonia that Psyche felt the need to withdraw.

Cursed with ill-fate, Harmonia isolated herself to the far reaches of Greece where no man would find her. Fearful that any encounter would lead to their untimely demise, she shut herself away from the world, the accursed cloak she wore long since burned, but forever having left its mark on her. Destined to walk the planes of the mortal world with the stench of death, Harmonia paid the price for the wrongdoings of her family. Psyche didn’t know all the details and questioned both Hermes’s and Zephyr’s secretiveness, but there wasn’t much to be done about it.

It was looking upon her for the first time that she realized it.

The resemblance to Eros was uncanny.

The pain was staggering, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Weak and frightened, the woman stared after her with a look of confusion as Psyche fled the cave, tears streaking down her face. Her feet moved unsteadily as she made her escape and one of the rocks gave, forcing her to lose her balance.

She skid along her knees and cried out at the brute force of the fall. With no strength to pick herself up, she laid there in her misery.

“Psyche?”

Looking up through her tears, she came face-to-face with Hermes atop a boulder. Her anguished pain turned to fury.

“You knew!” she accused with a scream. “You knew, and you didn’t warn me!”

He held up his hands as he approached her slowly. “I couldn’t…”

“Because you knew I wouldn’t do this!” she sobbed. “I would refuse, and you’d have no plan!”

“It had to be this way,” he said as he came closer.

She shook her head. “No,” she reasoned between her broken cries. “This is your way of controlling me – manipulating me into doing this foul plot!”

“This foul plot is your only means of achieving retribution!” He countered, his voice raised. “Or do you no longer harbor the same hatred and odium for those who have put you in this position? What would you have me do, Psyche?!”

She sat back as tears streamed in a steady river down her cheeks.

 Hermes sighed and knelt down in front of her, his arms resting on his knees and his hands hanging limp. “I had no intention of hurting you.”

Psyche was quiet for a long pause, the only sound coming from her were soft sobs and gentle sniffs. Her head hung, and she stared at the rocky surface. “You also had no intention of being truthful, either. And here I am playing puppet to your schemes.”

Hermes dropped down beside her, his legs extending as he sat. Looking out into the distance over the valley below, he said, “I have learned over my very long life that it is simpler to ask for forgiveness than to seek permission.”

They sat together in silence as the sun reached the horizon, readying the land of Greece for another night. Both listened to the echoing voices inside the cave, but neither moved from their spot. Finally, after sighing for the umpteenth time, Hermes shifted and reached across Psyche to grasp the leg she fell on. She frowned and maneuvered until she was resting on her hip, her leg now across his lap.

He scowled down at the wound that stretched from her knee to her ankle.

“Part of me hoped this would bring you some comfort,” he admitted as he set about tending to the scrape. “Assisting your husband’s sister from paying the punishment her mother should be paying seemed fitting.”

“It is only a reminder of my mistakes and our separation. Now, I must look her in the face every day, and I will only see him. It isn’t fair to her, but I resent her already.”

He hummed and shook his head, looking sheepish. “Perhaps that is where I went wrong. I know nothing of love or what it feels like. I am ignorant to your pain.”

Psyche tilted her head, observing him as he cleaned her wound with delicate fingers. “I don’t know whether to be envious or to pity you.”

A small smile pulled at his lips. “A bit of both, maybe?”

Unable to resist, she smirked.

 

*     *     *

 

By the summer months, Psyche was able to look back at those she gathered and feel a sense of accomplishment mixed with a string of guilt.

News had traveled from Troy and the death count continued to climb in alarming rates. Time grew short, but the list was near completed. Soon, their small group was nurtured into a healthy assembly in need of shelter and safe passage out of Greece. Unsure of their destination, Psyche sought out Zephyr one evening, finding him resting within the branches of a tree with his leg swinging leisurely.

“Zephyr?” she called to him quietly so not to disturb those resting.

He glanced down at her, his eyes catching the firelight and making his irises glow. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“You know sleep doesn’t come easily to me and when it does, I am often plagued with dreams.”

“Dreams? What kind of dreams?”

She shook her head. “Sometimes they’re different, sometimes they’re the same, but they always revolve around Eros.”

He stiffened. “How often are you having them?”

Suspicious, she eyed him. “I don’t know. Not often, since I rarely sleep anyways.”

With that, he relaxed. “You will tell me if they persist, yes?” When she offered no answer, he urged her. “Yes?”

“Okay,” she nodded as she approached the tree. Silently, she held up her hands and Zephyr reached down to help her up into the branches, his arm balancing her safely as she rested against his side. It was rather intimate, but over the years neither thought more of it than the simple need for reassuring comfort of the other’s presence. “How will we get out of Greece undetected? I fear we are attracting attention already and we haven’t seen Hermes in weeks.”

“Fear not, Psyche,” he murmured as he rested his head against the trunk. “We will be successful.”

“I am worried, though. It is no longer just us. I am now responsible for all their lives!” Her voice broke and shook with heavy emotion.

“Trust in me,” he nearly begged.

Psyche shook her head and frowned. “You don’t trust me, it seems. All I hear is _‘trust me, Psyche’_ , but when will you offer me the same?”

He gazed at her in confusion. “I do trust you!”

Looking him square in the eye, she declared, “Then you will be honest with me and tell me our next step!”

His fingers tapped against his leg, his face calculative and thoughtful. He glanced at the sleeping immortals huddled near the fire before he leaned in to whisper into her ear. “We will use Charon.”

Psyche pulled away in horror. “The Ferryman!” she nearly bellowed before his finger pressed against her mouth to quiet her.

“Silence!” he snapped. “Do not alarm the others!”

She shoved his hand away and glared at him. “They will not follow us! They will think we plan to hand them over to Hades and send them to the fiery pits of Tartarus!”

“They will be swayed,” he was confident.

Psyche, however, was not. “Even if that were possible, we do not have the coinage to ferry them all! We will be forced to leave many behind! What point was all this, then?!”

Zephyr smiled and patted her arm, tucking her into his side. He appeared calm and unaffected by her skepticism. “You have met Charon. You know he accepts other forms of payment.”

She shuddered thinking of her time within the ferryman’s boat. “And Hades? What part does he play?”

With a wicked glint, he murmured, “Who said he has to know anything?”

 

*     *     *

 

The more the plan was revealed to her, the less she cared for it.

Psyche marched beside her guardian as the entrance to the underworld came into view. Between them, dark water separated the two with an eerie fog hovering over the surface. She stared down at the cursed lake with disdain.

“Do not touch the water,” she told the immortals as they gathered close.

Harmonia hovered nearby, glaring at the cavernous entrance. “How can we trust that Hades himself will not emerge?”

 _We don’t_ , Psyche thought.

The conversation of their plan did not sit well with any of the immortals, but the decision to stay within the country that was surely doomed or face the prospect of escape by the hands of a man who carted the dead to the underworld were their only options. Despite their trust in her, many still harbored incredible doubt towards the God of the West Wind and his association with the Herald of the Gods.

This, she realized, did not help matters at all.

Before Psyche could answer, a figure appeared in the mist, and her stomach twisted at the familiar sight. Floating gracefully on his boat, Charon pushed the oar through the water as he made his way across the glassy surface towards them. His movements were measured and slow, exaggerated for dramatic affect as he was want to do. She glanced at Zephyr curiously.

“Where is Hermes?” she asked. “He is supposed to be here.”

“He will come,” Zephyr assured her before he marched away from the group to meet the ferryman.

“Do you not know the meaning of banishments, you wind-chapped cretin?” The voice drawled mockingly as the boat floated closer.

Zephyr shrugged uncaring. “I am surprised you even bother to note the latest gossip on Olympus.”

“It is hard when the lot of you send your misdeeds my way,” he replied before his eyes shifted to the woman standing close beside him. The black cloak he wore obscured his face from her sight, but his tone alone gave away how he felt about the pleasing company his acquaintance kept. “Ah, Psyche! Your beauty is brighter than ever! Three hundred and thirty-four years have done nothing to age you, my dear.”

She chuckled unfeelingly. “It’s felt much longer than that.”

“I am sure,” Charon nodded. “I was quite displeased to hear of the punishment you endured. Would it be insensitive of me to ask how you fare now?”

“I’m an empty vessel,” she commented plainly.

The ferryman eyed her up and down before settling on her face with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “Yes, unfortunately. I can’t seem to find your soul in your eyes. Have you lost it, dear?”

She looked away. “One would say it was stolen. Another would assume it left me of its own accord.”

“Pity.” He rested his weight on the oar and turned his attention to the gathering group behind her. “Have you brought me presents?”

Zephyr opened his mouth, but Psyche cut him off with a glare. “No!”

Charon hummed disappointedly. “Shame. It’s been so long since I’ve been given anything. To be graced by you, princess, does nothing for me if you do not have a soul I can gaze at. The masterpiece has lost its quality.”

“We’re not here to offer you more souls to charter to Hades. We need help,” Zephyr explained, looking grave.

Charon snapped his head in his direction. “I know why you are here! You need passage out of Greece, I am not a fool!”

“Will you help us?” Psyche stepped closer, her toes nearly meeting the edge of the water.

He shook his head. “I do nothing without payment.”

She deflated and glared at Zephyr with a look that said _‘I-told-you-so!’_

“Charon, my old friend!” Hermes voice broke through the group as he emerged fresh and bright eyed. “I see you have already begun discussing,” he stated as he observed everyone’s tense posture.

“You are late,” Zephyr snarled. “We run on borrowed time, we had no choice but to start.”

“Apologies,” the herald bowed low, so low it was sarcastic and made Psyche roll her eyes. “I had other business to attend to.”

“More important than this? If I had known you’d be busy attending to other matters, I wouldn’t have enlisted your help.” The other God huffed.

“It had to do with this, but please, I would love to hear more complaints on my uselessness.”

“I said no such—”

“This is endlessly entertaining,” Charon commented happily. “I would not have taken either of you to put on a spectacle for my pleasure, but I must admit I do love being surprised! You bicker as if you are tied in union.”

Both Gods stared at the ferryman dully.

“Charon,” Hermes started, waving off Zephyr who opened his mouth to speak. “I am afraid I must ask you to assist us across the River Styx.”

The oar lifted and tapped against the watery floor, thudding. “Need I remind you that all I do is monitored by Hades himself? I would be happy to provide such service, if only I am given payment for each soul I charter.”

“Hades does not know,” he claimed before beckoning Psyche forward. “You have heard of the dealings that Aphrodite has caused?”

“That spiteful wench’s drama reaches the ears of every being at every corner of Greece,” Charon grumbled. “She makes sure of it.”

“Then you know of her involvement with Troy.”

A bony, pale hand waved in the air dismissively. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. I am sure all of Olympus is buzzing with worry over these events that unfold. It still does not change the fact that I require payment to charter any soul on my vessel.”

“I had hoped your fondness for Psyche would be enough. She is the target for Aphrodite’s latest tantrum, as you well know. I fear this war is only a ploy to lure her out of hiding!”

Charon chuckled, but it was wheezy and croaked. “You call me friend and yet you do not know me. I am fond of beautiful things, but it does not stir my heart to do the work of charity for I have no heart. The only thing that motivates me are bargains that will benefit me in the end.” He pushed his boat a little closer and pointed a trembling finger at Hermes. “You see, that is where you and I differ, Herald. I admit that I am selfish, but you hide behind lies and schemes and a pretty face, hoping none will be the wiser to who you truly are. You claim you do this for the lady, but what do you get out of this?”

Hermes wisely remained quiet.

“What is your price?” Psyche spoke, having enough of this back and forth banter.

The creature on the boat paused in thought. “Typically, I am paid in gold…”

“We do not have it,” she pointed out quickly, squashing that option.

He hummed and peered around her at the gathering group of immortals. “I wouldn’t mind a companion.”

“You cannot have any of them. They are under my care,” she shot down.

A glimmer of white sparkled and she realized it was his teeth as he smiled wickedly. “How about a lock of hair? You always have smelled wonderfully! I shall weave it to my bracelet for safe keeping.”

“I am not as naïve as I once was,” Psyche declared. “You will only get something that will allow safe passage for all – I will not fall for your tricks, Charon.”

“You have become quite argumentative these last few centuries,” he mused. “Tell me, beauty. What have you to offer me?”

She bit her lip and looked up at the two Gods that stood by her. They both appeared disgruntled and unsure. She knew what it would mean giving him material things – the act would only serve to ruin her purpose. Zephyr glanced down at her and shook his head, guessing her line of thought.

Peering down at the water’s edge, she frowned. She had nothing to give, all manners of her possession had been lost long ago and all she kept were a few items of clothing and the occasional trinket from her travels. Even so, she would not hand them over, thus submitting herself to eternity within the Underworld. Which limited her options.

Charon had expressed his wish for a companion, though. Peeking up at him, she concluded that he was lonely, but did not want to appear weak by admitting this.

Rolling her shoulders, she pushed away from Hermes and said, “Conversation is what I offer.”

“Conversation?” he laughed. “What can I do with that?”

“You wanted a companion.”

“Psyche!” Zephyr protested as he lurched forward. It was Hermes hand that stayed him, an introspective look in his eyes.

Charon towered the girl, his body covered in pitch black and the rotting smell wafting off him was pungent and unpleasant. He bent down so he was eye level with her. “Are you offering yourself, my dear?”

She shook her head. “I will not stay with you. However, I am quite talented with a lyre.”

Everything stalled at her admission. Zephyr shoved Hermes away and said, “Psyche, you cannot possibly be thinking of returning here to play him a piece of arbitrary music!”

She glared at him, silently telling him to shut up.

“A lyre, you say?” Charon asked as he stroked the long fabric of his cloak. “It has been eons since I’ve heard music. The Queen tried to play for me once, but I admit, she is not as skilled as she would like to be.”

“I promise you, I am.” Psyche was sure. “If you offer us all safe passage across the river, I will return once it is safe and play for you.”

Charon was quiet for a long while and she could practically hear his thoughts turning over in his head. Finally, he said, “Does your word mean anything, dear? You who betrayed the love of your life?”

She winced and bit her lip. “I was mortal who made a mistake. But I do not wrong those who have not wronged me, and you, Charon, have been nothing but kind to me since our first meeting. Will you do this for me?”

Psyche fidgeted when she felt his eyes peer directly into her – through her. She swallowed nervously and could feel perspiration dripping down the back of her neck. She watched as Charon moved his oar and turned his boat parallel to her body, the side lined up with the shore.

“A word of caution, my lady. The company you keep isn’t entirely trustworthy. I may be a lowly ferryman, but I have charter enough souls to know the taste of a bad seed.” He steadied his vessel. “But I will do this for you.”

Unsure of how to take his cautionary warning, Psyche breathed a sigh of relief and gestured for a small group to climb in. She turned to Hermes and Zephyr to see both staring at her in awe.

“One of you should ride with this group. He can’t take us all at once.”

Hermes opened his mouth and closed it before grunting as Zephyr shoved him in the direction of the boat.

“Useless Gods first,” he mocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is updated on my personal tumblr as well! Follow me [@lovethecrystalrose](lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Let's discuss some of these myths.
> 
>   1. **Narcissus:** Originally the son of a River God, Narcissus was incredibly vain and no beauty satisfied him for marriage. Infuriated by his pompous ways, Aphrodite (or Nemesis in some variations) cursed him to love himself by tricking him to look into his reflection and thus discovering his love would never be reciprocated because he had learned it was his reflection he fell for, he kills himself. 
>   2. **Harmonia:** Originally the Goddess of harmony and concord, in certain myths, Harmonia is often described as a great Queen. She is the daughter of the love affair between Aphrodite and Ares, making her a sibling of Eros. Angered by the affair, Hephaestus seeks vengeance by sending Harmonia a necklace (or in my story a cloak) cursed with ill-fate. Any children or family she would have would meet their untimely end. 
>   3. **The Trojan War (The Fall of Troy):** A war that lasted for over a decade, a lot can be said about this myth, but I'll keep it brief. A battle over a "Golden Apple" was what ultimately started this. Between four Goddess (Hera, Aphrodite, Eris, and Athena), one would come out the fairest - Aphrodite. In exchange for being dubbed this great title, Aphrodite declared Helen, the most beautiful of all women and wife of Menelaus, the king of Sparta, to fall in love with Paris (who kidnaps her and takes her to Troy). It is believed that during this time, Zeus, who has been extremely unfaithful to his wife (and sister) Hera, uses the workings of the war to fix his mistakes and wipe out the existence of his bastard children as well as all those who are overly populated. If you're interested, I suggest you look this up!
> 

> 
> **NOTE:** I have changed some of the myths to suit the plot. Harmonia's necklace is a cloak and she was a Queen born from divinity and abandoned to be kept a secret from the Gods. Unfortunately, this did not work out for her. Narcissus is simply a great man who is incredibly pompous, extremely handsome, and angered Aphrodite for turning away her prospective love matches for him. I tried to stick as close to the original workings of the Trojan War, but some things are still up in the air as we progress further into the plot.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is updated on my personal tumblr as well! Follow me [@lovethecrystalrose](http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com)!  
> [Buy me a coffee and support my cause!](https://ko-fi.com/K3K3DVUR)  
> [](ko-fi.com/thecrystalrose)
> 
> ### Greek Myths and legends that appear in this Fic thus far
> 
>   1. Eros and Psyche
>   2. Hades and Persephone
>   3. Smyrna (Myrrha)
>   4. Adonis and Aphrodite
>   5. Demeter and Ascalabus
>   6. Aphrodite and Eros
>   7. The fall of Troy
>   8. Narcissus and Aphrodite
>   9. Harmonia and Hephaestus
> 



End file.
